


Trouble In Paradise

by CapedCommissioner (smittenbritain)



Series: You Feel Like Paradise [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Fake Marriage, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sex, Trans Bruce Wayne, Trans Male Character, Undercover as a Couple, background Dick Grayson/Wally West
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 06:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 48,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26348521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smittenbritain/pseuds/CapedCommissioner
Summary: The Paradise Resort was a fancy place for fancy people and their guests - and a smooth front for one of Black Mask's drug operations. Their primary target audience was wealthy couples who could send word and product back to Gotham, right into Jim's path.The thing was, Paradise was locked up tight, and trying to get in would be impossible when he wasn't part of that target audience. That was, until Batman suggested going undercover with Bruce Wayne.
Relationships: Jim Gordon/Bruce Wayne
Series: You Feel Like Paradise [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1914592
Comments: 77
Kudos: 76





	1. Day 0

**Author's Note:**

> Did I come up with a whole three part series based on one fake married idea? Yes, yes I did. Thanks to [DynamicDuo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/pseuds/DynamicDuo) for helping me plot things out! 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [capedcommissioner](https://capedcommissioner.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Also, do not interact if you ship any incest pairings!

Jim stood on the GCPD roof next to the Batsignal, puffing at his cigarette. That in itself wasn’t anything new, but the file tucked under his arm was. Annoyingly enough, it wasn’t a very thick one even with the intel Batman had given them over the past few weeks, but there was enough there now that Jim had a lead at long last. 

The telltale flutter of a cape drew his focus. He turned a step to the left; Batman had, as per usual, dropped in just on the outskirts of his vision like the dramatic bastard he was.

“Evening, Batman,” he said gruffly. 

“Good evening, Commissioner,” Batman replied. Jim couldn’t see his eyes behind the white slits of the cowl, but he was sure that they had already dropped to the folder. He could almost feel the barely restrained eagerness thrumming through Batman. “What do you need?”

“Here.” Jim tucked his cigarette between his lips so he could hand over the file. “I’ve compiled everything we’ve got on the Black Mask operation. I did some research, and it looks like we’ve finally got a hit on a branch.”

Batman flipped open the cover, flipping past the first of only a few pages. “A resort,” he said, sounding surprised. And then, snorting, he said, “The Paradise Resort?”

“Not very imaginative for a name, I know,” Jim chuckled. He tapped at his cigarette, scattering the ash across the rooftop idly. It was quickly lost in the wind. “It’s not the main hub, I know that much. We won’t find Black Mask himself there. It looks like a hotspot for his drugs coming through, though - and that’s drugs of all kind, judging by what we’ve seen. At least potentially, anyway.” He gestured at the file again. “With the rich clientele, you can imagine how far that shit goes, but I don’t have a fucking shred of proof that will stick. It’s all speculation sprinkled with the clues you found.”

“I _can_ imagine how far it goes,” Batman hummed. Jim wondered how he managed to turn the pages so nimbly through those thick gauntlets. “What’s your plan?”

Jim sucked in a quick breath, busying himself with dropping his cigarette butt and putting it out under his heel for a moment. “Ideally, it’d be surveillance, but there’s no way I’m gonna be able to get anyone in there. It’s too secure for traditional means, and too damn expensive for me to get anyone in undercover - and that’s not counting the fact that we’d stick out like a sore thumb.”

The file snapped shut again. Jim felt the full weight of Batman’s analytical stare. “You’re right that it would be too difficult to watch from afar,” he said. He wiggled the file. “The map guarantees it. It’d be almost impossible with those walls and that security, and you wouldn’t get much out of it even if you tried.”

 _“And_ I need the numbers here in Gotham,” Jim added.

Batman inclined his head respectfully. “Exactly. That’s also the reason why I can’t look for you. If people realised I was out of the city…”

Jim grimaced. “Yeah, no.” He sighed. His fingers twitched, itching for another smoke. _“I_ could head out there and leave Montoya in charge, but I can’t exactly stroll in and book a room. I’m no billionaire. They wouldn’t take me. Even if I did, it’d be too obvious.”

He saw the moment that something clicked for Batman. It was a reaction he’d seen many, many times over the years, and it reminded Jim of a hound catching a scent; he lifted his head, straightened his shoulders, and as he reopened the file to skim it, he started to smile. “No,” Batman agreed, “but I know someone who _can_ get you in.”

Jim sighed. “Alright, I’m curious. Who?”

“Bruce Wayne.”

He couldn’t help it - he barked out a laugh. “Bruce Wayne?”

The corners of Batman’s mouth tugged up with his quiet chuckle. “Yes, Bruce Wayne. I’ve worked with him before, Commissioner, and I think he’d be willing to help here.”

“I can’t send a civilian in to do surveillance for me, even if he is Batman approved,” Jim replied, raising his eyebrows. The entire situation was amusing, though Jim did force down his snickers; he couldn’t afford to look unprofessional over the matter of a civilian’s safety. “Jesus, the mayor would have my head for that.”

“I didn’t say he should go in alone.”

Jim’s humour finally faded. “You lost me.”

Batman seemed to be studying the file a little more intently. There definitely wasn’t much in there - Jim had written it himself, after all - so Jim wondered if he was actually reading it or if he was just trying to avoid his gaze for some reason. “You may not be a billionaire,” Batman said slowly, “but Bruce Wayne is. He can provide the cover you need and get you into Paradise.”

Slowly, Jim began to see the picture Batman was painting. Really, it was a pretty simple one - neither he nor Wayne could go in alone, but together…

“Still don’t see how it would work,” Jim said, frowning. “What, Wayne brings a friend to a fancy hotel? I barely even know the guy, they wouldn’t buy it.”

Batman raised his head again. Carefully, he said, “Wayne wouldn’t be bringing a _friend,_ Commissioner.”

And then Jim put the pieces together. He felt a little dumb for not realising sooner.

The Paradise was a fancy resort for fancy people and their chosen guests. For the most part, that meant rich folk bringing their significant others there for a good time, and to pick up some of what Black Mask was selling while they were there. The primary target audience, though, was _couples;_ entice them in with the promise of a good time, and send the right ones on their way with a little extra. Rinse and repeat.

“Ah,” he said intelligently.

“You don’t have to go through with the suggestion,” Batman said. He closed the file once more, offering it to Jim. “Regardless, I can’t help you with this, not unless Black Mask brings his operation back into Gotham. I can, however, give you Wayne’s number, and you can decide for yourself if you want to pursue this route. If so, you two can make the necessary arrangements. I understand that it’s a little unorthodox, but...” 

Jim took the folder, and he hugged it to his chest, almost like it was a shield. He waited a beat, thinking, and then finally asked, “You trust Wayne?”

“I do,” Batman said smoothly. “He’s professional. I think you’ll find he’ll be a great help as well as your cover.”

It wasn’t like he had any better options right now. The longer they waited, the longer this branch of Black Mask’s operation went on, and the more drugs funnelled in and out of Gotham. It was an oddly _normal_ worry when half of the time Jim spent his nights chasing down Bane or Riddler or Joker.

Jim sighed. “I’ll take his number.”

* * *

It took a week before Jim reached out. That was seven long days of thinking it over while he juggled the little information he had. In that time, all he managed was to confirm the route - that those drugs both left and came into Gotham through Paradise, mostly likely due to the prominent criminal underbelly of the city - but he didn’t get much further than that. Paradise was frustratingly locked tight, promising discretion on their website and certainly achieving it.

In an ideal world, Jim wouldn’t have to leave Gotham for this. He wanted to send someone else out to do it for him so he could keep an eye on things at home. 

If he was enlisting a civilian to help, though, he didn’t want to put any of his officers in the line of fire if something went wrong. Jim would take the hit regardless, so he figured he might as well be the only one to potentially face the mayor’s wrath. There was no point in getting someone else fired, too.

He just simply didn’t have the resources to mount anything spectacular outside of Gotham, but he also couldn’t ignore this branch, not when Black Mask was sitting smugly somewhere in the city while the money rolled in. 

So he caved. He called Bruce Wayne and left a message asking him to come down to the GCPD as soon as it suited him.

* * *

To his surprise, Wayne brought lunch.

There was a knock at his office door at around one in the afternoon, and as Jim looked up from his scattered paperwork about the Paradise, the door opened to reveal Wayne and Renee. 

“Mr. Wayne said you called,” Renee said, gesturing for him to enter, “said you wanted to meet with him?”

There was a bag clasped in one of Wayne’s hands, and in the other was a tray with a couple of paper coffee cups. Jim was suddenly much more conscious about the state of his desk with its piles of forms and empty mugs. “That’s right. Thanks, Renee. I just need to discuss some things with Mr. Wayne in private.”

Renee gave him a curious frown, but she nodded as she backed out of the room. It didn’t occur to Jim that Wayne had been oddly silent up until that moment, and when he finally made proper eye contact with him, he saw only a polite, expectant smile on his face when he’d been anticipating a judgemental stare.

“Afternoon, Mr. Wayne,” Jim said, standing to offer him his hand. “Thank you for coming.”

Wayne set down the tray on a free corner of Jim’s desk so he could shake his hand. He had a good, firm grip, Jim noticed. “Of course, Commissioner. You know I’m always glad to help. What’s this about?”

“Have a seat.” Jim gestured to the empty chair on the other side of his desk as he sat down again. He paused, raising an eyebrow. “Can I trust that you’ll keep everything said in here confidential without tying you down with paperwork? Batman said you knew what to do.”

“I’m sure he’d have my head if I jeopardised your working relationship with him,” Wayne said, chuckling. He sat, carefully balancing the bag next to the drinks. 

Jim hummed a quiet laugh of his own. Every time he spoke to Wayne - which wasn’t often, really - he was surprised by how relaxed the man was. He always found himself expecting someone stiffer, just like his experiences with the other rich folk of Gotham, but Wayne just acted like they were old friends. It was good for putting him at ease, at least. “Then get comfortable, Mr. Wayne, ‘cause this is gonna take a minute.” 

“That’s fine.” Wayne nodded towards his offerings. “I brought lunch for us both. We can talk while we eat.”

Logically, Jim had known that the food and drinks were for them to share. It was still a pleasant surprise from Wayne, though, and when Jim’s stomach growled, he found himself incredibly glad for Wayne's forethought.

As they tore into their food - sandwiches and coffee, nothing exciting, though Jim thought it was delicious on an empty stomach - he briefly explained the situation, offering a few details here and there. He had decided not to bring out the file this time, though; while Jim was divulging something a little more confidential already, he didn’t want to parade around official GCPD documents. If Wayne refused and he did indeed keep his silence like Batman promised, then nobody would be any wiser about the attempted plan here. It would be just between the three of them.

He fully expected Wayne to shoot it down, especially when Jim mentioned that he would be the officer going in with him. Instead, to his complete and utter surprise, Wayne cocked his head thoughtfully as he crumpled up his sandwich wrapper. “So we’d be undercover,” he said.

 _“I’d_ be undercover,” Jim corrected. He tucked his rubbish back in the back alongside Wayne’s, and then cradled his coffee, drinking in the warmth. “You’d be providing me with cover and having a nice vacation while I do the legwork.”

Wayne shot him an amused look over the rim of his coffee cup. “I can help. I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”

Jim felt heat rise in his cheeks, and he steadfastly ignored it. Of course he was _aware_ that Wayne was handsome, but he wasn’t about to look, especially not with the kind of mission he was proposing. He’d be setting himself up for failure, and no doubt he’d be nursing a broken heart and his wounded pride afterwards. If this went ahead, Jim wanted to be as professional as possible.

“If you see something, I certainly wouldn’t say no to the information,” Jim allowed, inclining his head. He exhaled a long sigh as he settled back in his chair, idly swirling the remnants of his coffee in his cup. “I take it you’re on board then?”

“I don’t see why I should disagree.” 

Jim raised an eyebrow. “The potential danger is one good reason.”

“Again,” Wayne said, smiling, “I’m not just a pretty face.”

Staying professional was going to be more difficult than Jim had thought.

“So,” Wayne continued, tilting his head, “what’s our cover story?”

Jim rubbed at his forehead as he took a moment to really think about everything here. He still couldn’t believe he had even entertained the idea at the start, let alone allowed it to come this far, and yet here he was. He didn’t have any better ideas, not with the GCPD’s current budget. He just had to bite the bullet.

“Well, that’s where you come in a little more,” Jim said. Awkwardly, he looked down at his cup, plucking at a loose section of the cardboard sleeve. “Obviously, the most believable one is that we’re…”

“Together,” Wayne said, filling in for Jim when he trailed off.

Jim cleared his throat. “Yeah, together. I figured we could spin a whole secret relationship thing, something the papers didn’t know about. Nobody at Paradise should recognise me since it’s so far from Gotham.”

“But they might recognise ‘James Gordon’, especially if they connect _me_ to Gotham,” Wayne replied. He leaned back, humming thoughtfully. 

An idea occurred to Jim then, and he felt his cheeks burn again. He could only hope that Wayne didn’t call him out on it. “What if it was ‘Jim Wayne’ instead?”

As Wayne’s gaze snapped back to him, Jim felt the full force of a look that he’d only previously felt from Batman. It was silent, calculating, and, much like with the masked vigilante, it ended with a slow smile that started in the corners of Wayne’s mouth and ended with his entire face. “That could work,” he said. “We’ll say we’ve been dating in private for a long time, and this trip is our honeymoon. We wanted to keep things private, which is why we chose the Paradise.” Wayne arched an eyebrow. “They _do_ claim to love discretion, after all.”

“They do,” Jim agreed, puffing out a quiet laugh. It released some of the tension that had built up in his shoulders, tension that was there purely because of his embarrassment. “Just a warning, Mr. Wayne-”

“Bruce,” he corrected gently. 

Well, Jim supposed, they _were_ faking a marriage. They might as well be on first name terms. “Bruce,” he continued, “it’s been a little while since I’ve done anything undercover, but I do remember that there’s a lot we need to go through beforehand. If you’re certain, I’ll go track down Detective Montoya and we can begin making arrangements. If you’d like some more time to think about it-”

Bruce held up a hand, and Jim went quiet. “Commissioner-”

“Jim,” he interrupted, raising his eyebrows. Bruce flashed him an amused little grin, one that Jim gladly returned.

 _“Jim,”_ Bruce repeated, “I don’t need time to think about it. I’m sure. If this helps Gotham, I’ll gladly lend my time. I’ll also happily fund whatever we need for this, too.”

If Bruce didn’t mind, Jim wasn’t about to stop him. It’d keep things nice and quiet, at least. “Well, you might need to book the room,” he said. “But we can talk about that in a minute. Let me go grab Renee, and we can go over all the forms and legal stuff before we get much further.”

As Jim stood, he jerked his thumb towards the door. “You want another coffee? I can bring you one.”

“Sure. Thank you.” Bruce nodded with a blindingly warm smile. “Shall I wait here?”

Jim blinked, and he shook off whatever had taken hold of him briefly. Damn it, he wasn’t _allowed_ to have butterflies. “Yeah. I’ll be back in a sec.”

As he closed the door behind him, Jim prayed that he hadn’t made a mistake. He knew that later, once they’d sent Bruce home, Renee would certainly tell him so - for several reasons, not just because he had bowed to Batman’s suggestion of asking for help from outside the force - but he had plenty of time to beat himself up over it until then.

Really, Jim wasn’t sure how he expected this to go. He could only hope that they’d be too busy investigating for things to get complicated.

* * *

It was a mere week later when Jim pulled up outside the front doors of Wayne Manor. The plan was to leave his car here, and they’d take one of Bruce’s for the drive to Paradise. It was going to be a few hours, after all, and Jim wanted to make the trip in comfort and style.

Bruce was waiting outside the doors to his great garage when he arrived, his butler next to him with his bags. Admittedly, he looked nice in a smart casual sort of way; his buttoned shirt was fitted, because of course it was, but the jeans were a little faded in a comfortably worn sort of way. He waved Jim forwards, pointing to the empty space inside, so Jim pulled into the gap. He hadn’t even thought to ask, but it was a nice gesture on Bruce’s part. Once he’d parked, he made a quick trip around to the trunk to grab his suitcase, and then he locked it.

Bruce smirked as he approached. “A Hawaiian shirt and shorts, Jim?”

“Good morning to you, too,” Jim replied, rolling his eyes. Bruce didn’t need to know that his holiday wardrobe didn’t consist of much else. 

“I can look after your keys if you’d like, Commissioner,” the butler - Alfred, Jim remembered - offered. “Save you the trouble of keeping track while you’re gone.”

“Thanks.” He dropped them into Alfred’s waiting palm, and they quickly vanished into an inside pocket of his jacket. Jim’s gaze drifted to Bruce’s bags - two suitcases, neatly stacked behind him - and he raised his eyebrows. “How many bags do you need?”

Bruce’s cheeks turned a little pink. “I have a lot I need to bring,” he said evasively.

Jim hummed, playfully judgemental, but said nothing more. “Well, we’d better get going if we wanna get there before dark.”

“I’ll load your bags,” Alfred said, reaching for the handles of Bruce’s suitcases. “Don’t forget to say goodbye to the children before you leave, Master Bruce. I believe they’re waiting for you in the lobby.”

Jim’s stomach dropped. He’d forgotten all about Bruce’s little family. 

“Ah, you’re right. I’ll be right back,” Bruce promised, squeezing Jim’s shoulder. He turned to jog up the steps to the manor, and as he approached, the doors opened to reveal the oldest already waiting. Jim watched as Dick greeted Bruce with a smile, and they disappeared inside.

He turned to join Alfred, hauling his own suitcase into the trunk of the car alongside Bruce’s. He and Alfred didn’t talk beyond some idle polite chatter, much to Jim’s relief; he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d say if it went past that. Jim had no clue what story Bruce had told his family to explain why he was vanishing with him for a couple of weeks.

It didn’t come up. Bruce reappeared shortly afterwards, thanked Alfred for his help, and they both watched as he made his way back to the house. He gave them a wave, and then headed inside.

“So,” Bruce said, turning towards the car as he jingled his keys, “you ready for the drive?”

“As long as you’ve got good music,” Jim shot back just as playfully. They hadn’t had much time to build up a rapport in the week since they’d settled things, but they had texted back and forth a bit to try and make the transition easier. Bruce was surprisingly _fun,_ Jim had discovered. “It’ll be a long fucking drive if you don’t.”

Bruce laughed as he popped open the driver’s side door. “I’m sure we can meet in the middle somewhere.”

They climbed in, and as Jim buckled up his seatbelt, he noticed that Bruce was busy fiddling with something in his hands. It caught the light of the early morning sun as it washed through the windshield, glinting back at Jim enough that he had to blink to clear his vision.

It was a ring. A simple gold band, one that matched the one on Bruce’s finger.

He hadn’t been wearing that before.

“I thought I’d take the liberty of getting you this,” Bruce said. He held it out, and Jim let him drop it into his palm. “I realised yesterday that it would be a pretty big piece of the puzzle to miss. I didn’t exactly want to give you this in front of the kids, though.”

Jim’s throat felt dry. “Yeah, you’re right.” He hadn’t even _thought_ about it.

He slipped it onto his ring finger. It was a perfect fit.

“Thanks,” Jim said, wiggling his fingers either side of it. “Might’ve been a little fucked before we even started otherwise.”

Bruce chuckled. So far, the sound had been bright and amused every time that Jim had heard it, but this time there was something softer in it that he couldn’t decipher. Rather than reply, however, Bruce switched on the radio - something ‘80s strummed through the speakers - and started down his stupidly long driveway.

Jim was glad for the cover of music. As he peered out of the window, his thumb drifted across to rub at the metal now pressing against the skin between his knuckles; it would take some getting used to, that was for sure. 

On the other hand, he’d always wondered what it’d be like to wear a wedding ring.

* * *

Paradise was a grand hotel, located along the shore a few hours beyond Metropolis. All in all, it was a long day spent driving, but it was time that was made significantly easier once he and Bruce loosened up a little more. The idea of a hot shower and a comfortable bed were tempting ones, though, even on a mission like this, and as Bruce pulled up the driveway, Jim exhaled a sigh of relief. 

Once inside, Jim followed him up to the reception desk. There was a smile already plastered across Bruce’s face as he greeted the woman behind the desk, and as Jim settled in beside him, he half listened as he idly looked around.

“Hello, sirs. How can I help?”

“We’re checking in,” Bruce said, dripping with charm. 

So far, the lobby seemed relatively normal, if a little expensive. Every inch of it oozed money and class, from the plush couches lining one of the walls to the chandeliers glittering overhead.

“What’s the name, sir?”

“Wayne.”

Jim couldn’t see many staff members hanging around. There had been the valet outside, the receptionist here now, and there was a concierge over by the elevator. A door labelled ‘STAFF ONLY’ was right there behind the counter, but Jim couldn’t see the bottom, so there was no chance of spotting any shadows that would signal someone behind it.

“Ah!” The woman sounded delighted, and Jim returned to Earth. “The honeymoon suite. Congratulations, sirs! There’ll be champagne waiting for you in your room once you get upstairs, and if you’d like to order room service tonight, it’s complimentary.”

Jim blinked, surprised by the words _honeymoon suite,_ and then Bruce’s arm landed around his shoulders to squeeze him a little closer. “Figured I’d surprise you,” he said, leaning in to kiss Jim’s cheek. He could feel Bruce’s smile against his skin. 

He hoped his laugh didn’t sound as hysterical as it felt. “You’re too good to me,” Jim said, reaching up to pat Bruce’s hand.

The receptionist beamed at them as she handed Bruce a pair of keycards. “If you’d like help with your bags, please don’t hesitate to ask. Otherwise, there are your keys, and on behalf of the Paradise Resort, I hope you have a wonderful stay.”

“Thank you,” Bruce said. He split the cards, handing one to Jim as he retracted his arm. “I think we can manage our bags, don’t you, honey?”

 _Honey._ Jim almost laughed again.

They didn’t chat on their way up to their room, though Bruce visibly relaxed again once the elevator doors had closed behind them. The charming smile slipped back into something more comfortable, but as soon as he saw Jim’s amused stare, his eyebrows jumped up. “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” Jim said breezily. “Nothing at all, _honey.”_

Bruce’s cheeks coloured as he laughed. “I thought it would be appropriate. Do you want me to stop?”

“You can do whatever you like.” As he chuckled, Jim leaned back against the railing so he could rest his arm against Bruce’s. “I don’t mind.”

They’d talked about it beforehand, of course. This needed to be convincing, otherwise any staff involved in the drugs half of the operation would start sniffing around before they’d even really started. They’d basically agreed on doing whatever was necessary to keep up their cover, which, in hindsight, might become a problem considering Jim had been single for a very long time and was about to share a bed with a very attractive man.

That was an issue for later, though. He’d settled on not really thinking about it.

The elevator dinged cheerfully when they hit their floor, and then it was just a short trip down a relatively empty corridor. Jim saw maybe only two or three other doors, aside from another staff one at the other end, that was. Bruce swiped them in, and he held the door for Jim as he grabbed the handle of one of Bruce’s suitcases to haul it inside with him.

He promptly stopped two steps in.

The room was _huge._ There was a large, squishy couch front and centre, with an equally large TV mounted on the wall opposite it. A small circular dining table sat just behind it, tucked into the corner next to the balcony door. The bedroom itself was through an archway beyond the couch, and Jim could only assume that the bathroom door was around there, too.

The promised champagne sat on the coffee table in a bucket of ice. Two glasses stood next to it, waiting patiently.

“Jesus Christ,” Jim muttered, dragging the suitcases further into the room. 

Bruce closed the door behind them, and when Jim turned to look at him, he was obviously stifling a laugh. “It’s not bad.”

“Bruce.”

“It’s not!”

“It’s _fantastic.”_ Bruce’s snickers finally slipped through, and Jim grinned right back at him. “I’m serious,” Jim continued, turning to face Bruce fully now with the intention of making him break. “We’re not all billionaires, you know. I’ve never been in a hotel room like this. Champagne on arrival? Complimentary dinner?”

“Well, we _are_ newlyweds,” Bruce reminded him.

“I should get fake married to you more often.” 

Bruce crumbled into peals of laughter. Satisfied, Jim grabbed his suitcase handle again so he could tug it through to the bedroom. If they were going to take advantage of this for tonight, he wanted to do so thoroughly, and that included that champagne and getting first dibs on his preferred side of the bed.

Which, he now realised, was covered in _rose petals._

“Oh,” Bruce said behind him. “I didn’t-”

“It’s fine,” Jim chuckled. He was amused more than anything else, and he ignored the petals for now as he parked his suitcase under the window. “Like you said, we’re newlyweds. Just means we have a little more to clean up later.”

Bruce opened the wardrobe to Jim’s right, tucking one of the suitcases inside. Jim hadn’t noticed that there was a lock on it before, but he respected Bruce’s privacy enough to not comment on it. The doors closed, and Bruce set his other suitcase down in front of them to keep them closed. 

As Jim unzipped his suitcase to flip it open, Bruce turned away to explore, only to stop again a few steps away. There was a polite cough, one that was definitely to cover up some other noise.

Jim leaned back on his heels. “What?”

Bruce cleared his throat. “Nothing. Just, uh… There’s another present.”

He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt. All he had to do was turn to see what Bruce was looking at: a bowl on one of the nightstands, containing very familiar foil squares.

Jim’s face burned. “Ah.”

“Yeah.” Bruce was blushing, too. He was _embarrassed._ “That was… nice of them?”

“I guess, though I’d hope one of us would’ve brought something if we were actually just married.” Jim knew he would have. In fact, he’d bet money on there being a condom in his wallet still, though it was probably long out of date by now.

Without a word, he headed over to the bedside table to tug open the drawer. “Well, look at that. We’ve even got a Bible.”

When he shot Bruce a grin, he saw him already watching. Bruce had covered his mouth in an attempt to smother his blush, but his eyes glittered with mirth as Jim bumped the drawer shut again. “Well,” he said, dropping his hand, “it’s good to know that we’re covered on all bases. I should’ve guessed they’d go this far with the honeymoon suite.”

Jim, on the other hand, wasn’t that surprised. It was nice to experience this much luxury, though, and with that thought, he jerked his head back towards the living room and said, “Speaking of, do you want some of that champagne?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Drinking on the job, Jim?”

“Yes, I’m going to have a glass of our expensive champagne in our fancy hotel room, preferably with a ridiculously pricey dinner.” Technically, the job didn’t start until tomorrow - after which, Jim _would_ be keeping an eye on any alcohol he consumed - but for tonight, he wanted to relax. “You coming, _dear?”_

The pet name made Bruce laugh again, and Jim did his best to ignore the way his heart squeezed at the sound. 

* * *

Going to bed was both interesting and uneventful. 

After they ate, they took their turns showering to wash off the day of travelling. Jim was delighted to see Bruce dressed down in a t-shirt and sweats, which wasn’t too dissimilar to what he wore on a nightly basis. 

“No silk pyjamas?” he teased when Bruce emerged, hair still damp from his shower, and he was rewarded with a roll of his eyes for his efforts. 

It was only when they slid into bed together, however, that Jim’s heart leaped into his throat again. Bruce stayed politely on his side of the bed, offering a goodnight before he settled on his side. His head bowed forwards on his pillow as he bent his knees to curl up, and he reminded Jim somewhat of a cat. He was asleep within minutes, his breathing evening out steadily until Bruce snored quietly into the darkness of their bedroom.

It took Jim a little longer than he wanted to admit to fall asleep. 


	2. Day 1

When they got up in the morning, they stayed put in their room. Jim politely turned his back as Bruce got dressed, and he headed over to the balcony doors to get the lay of the land. From their room, he had a good view of the pool, along with the distant tennis courts beyond that. The Paradise Resort was surprisingly big, and as Jim leaned on the wall surrounding the balcony, he wondered just how much of that was even accessible to guests.

Behind him, there was the soft pad of bare feet as Bruce came out into the living room. “I’m decent.”

“Mm.” Jim rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Hey, do you wanna have breakfast out here?”

He almost jumped when Bruce appeared at his elbow. “Jesus,” he muttered, rubbing at his chest with a frown. His heart gradually stopped hammering at his ribs, slowing to a normal pace once more. He was, unfortunately, used to being surprised, so his recovery was much better than it used to be. “You’re as quiet as Batman, you know.”

The corner of Bruce’s mouth twitched with a barely suppressed smile. “I have four very sneaky sons. I had to keep up somehow.” He planted his hands on the wall so they could support his weight as he looked out across the Paradise grounds. “It’s a nice view,” he said. “I’ll order room service if you bring that table out here?”

There was something expectant in Bruce’s face, something that told Jim he knew that he wasn’t just thinking about food. It was like he knew exactly why Jim wanted to eat out there, and he had decided to happily help with the setup.

Bruce was smarter than Jim had given him credit for.

“Sounds like a plan.” He pushed himself off from the wall to step back inside. “Could you get me something with bacon? And definitely some coffee.” He’d slept peacefully in the end, but he knew he’d need it eventually.

As Bruce breezed past Jim to pick up their abandoned menus from last night, Jim wrestled the table outside. There was just enough space for it and the two chairs on the balcony, and even when sitting, he still had a perfect view of the grounds. After a brief trip back inside to go to his suitcase, Jim settled down in his seat, armed with blueprints of Paradise, a few notes he’d taken back in Gotham, and an empty notepad. He scattered his papers across the table for now, grateful for how still the morning was, though he knew he’d regret the lack of wind later when it warmed up; so far, this place seemed much, much hotter than Gotham, enough that Jim could feel sweat on the back of his neck even this early in the day.

Bruce didn’t rejoin him until their food arrived. He carried the tray out to the balcony, and he waited patiently for Jim to make room for it on the table.

“Sorry,” he said, stacking the loose pieces of paper and tucking them under the blueprints. “I got a little carried away.”

“It’s okay,” Bruce chuckled. He took the seat opposite Jim, peering curiously down at his work as he took his plate of croissants. “How’s it going?”

Jim shrugged. “It mostly checks out, at least as far as I can see from here. Thanks for breakfast, by the way.” He greedily scooped up his steaming mug of coffee for a few eager gulps. 

“Of course.” Bruce cradled his own cup in his hands, and when Jim looked up to meet his gaze, there was something close to a fond smile on his face. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

“Well, I wanna finish looking at this first.” Jim gestured towards the blueprints, though they were half obscured by their breakfast tray now. “And then I’m not sure. We could take a look around, see what they’re offering.”

Bruce’s gaze flickered out to the grounds again, curious. “Well, there’s the restaurant and the casino downstairs somewhere. There’s a bar, too. I think the website mentioned a gym as well.”

Jim hummed thoughtfully as he speared a piece of bacon on his fork. “We could try the restaurant later,” he suggested. “Get some dinner, see what it’s like.”

“I hope you’ve got something nice to wear.” Bruce’s eyes sparkled at him over his coffee, teasing. 

“What’s wrong with what I usually wear?”

“Nothing,” Bruce assured him. He lowered his mug with a barely stifled laugh, exchanging it for a croissant. _“I_ don’t mind at all, but the other guests will. If we don’t match, they’ll notice, and they’ll wonder why I haven’t spoiled my husband.”

Jim blinked. “People notice that?”

Bruce swallowed his bite, and this time, his amusement was obvious. “Of course they do. Rich people are terrible gossips. You’d be surprised by what Alfred overhears at galas.”

Maybe it really was a good thing that he’d brought Bruce along. Batman’s blessing or not, the man knew his way in these circles in a way that Jim could never hope to. He was beginning to realise how woefully underprepared he was for the social aspect of his stakeout here, and if it wasn’t for Bruce, he knew he’d have been spotted as an undercover cop in an instant. The lack of preparation time certainly hadn’t helped.

“Well, I hope you’ve got spare ties sitting in your suitcases,” Jim said, looking back down at his food, “because I’ve only got one.”

Bruce chuckled. “I’m sure I can find something.” 

Jim hummed in agreement, and as he finished off the last of his eggs, he tugged the blueprints out from under the tray to continue examining them. If they were planning on heading out later that day, he wanted to have a clear idea of what Paradise held. 

“That’s not right.”

He frowned and shot a look up at Bruce. “What isn’t?”

Bruce traced the edge of a building on the blueprints, and then nodded out over the balcony. “That building over there should have ended closer to the pool, but it doesn’t. It extends much further than the blueprints show.”

“Shit, you’re right.” Jim scribbled on his notepad. “That’s odd. Worth looking into, for sure.”

“If there’s one anomaly like this, there must be more.” Bruce stared down at the blueprints, as if he hoped that another would jump out at him. There was something familiar about the way his lips thinned as he thought, but Jim just couldn’t place it. “They must have done this off the record specifically to hide their operation. Easier to keep it secret if nobody can get in and check the boundaries.”

“That complicates things,” Jim sighed. It was going to be hard enough to sneak into staff areas when he knew where they were, but even worse when there were, apparently, sneaky additions to the resort. “Alright, I’d better get to work studying this then. At least then we’ll know if something’s out of place.”

Bruce gathered their empty plates back onto the tray to whisk it away. “I’ll get some more coffee.”

Jim grunted, too busy sorting back through his paperwork again to grant him a proper reply, but when Bruce joined him with two more mugs, he shot him a grateful smile. Bruce settled down next to him, and together, they began to pore over the blueprints.

* * *

They planned on taking a walk after lunch, mostly just to see what areas were available to guests and which were locked away. Before they left, Jim paused to give the room a quick sweep for anything out of the ordinary - something he should have done last night - and to plant cameras of his own. Bruce was right there at his side, helping to place them in little nooks and crannies to keep watch while they were gone. Jim wasn’t expecting anyone to come snooping around, especially while they still had a low profile, but it didn’t hurt to be careful.

Once they were done, they took a winding route through the hotel, one that took them past the various guest facilities and out under the blazing sun. Jim got used to Bruce’s hand in his quicker than he’d thought he would, but the brush of Bruce’s ring against his skin was somehow still startling. He figured it’d just take some time, and he stopped paying attention to the little jolt he felt every time he remembered it.

The guests seemed happy and content. The pool was, predictably, a popular destination at that time of day, but Jim and Bruce did no more than walk past it to wander towards the tennis courts further on. Jim spotted a few more extensions that were absent from the blueprints, and he filed those thoughts away for later. 

Sweat began to bead on his forehead on the way back from the courts, brought on by the insistent heat from overhead. “We never get weather like this back home,” he muttered, swiping his wrist above his eyebrows. 

Bruce laughed under his breath. “You know, I think I actually prefer it when it’s rainier. I don’t think I’m prepared for heat like this.”

“I’m definitely not,” Jim grumbled. The cold and the rain was one of the things he found charming about Gotham, though he knew that other residents of their not-so-fair city would scold him for it if they knew. “God, I’m gonna have to shower before we get dinner, this is ridiculous.”

It had Jim eyeing up the pool as they passed it, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to brave it just yet. Bruce seemed to be thinking along the same lines as him; he stepped ahead to hold the door to the blessedly cool inside for Jim, and as he followed, he said, “We could relax by the pool at some point so we’re not just trapped in our room.”

Another couple stepped past them, the two ladies giggling between themselves as they slipped their sunglasses on. They were clearly headed for the pool, though when Jim glanced through the window next to them, he saw that they were making a beeline for the outside bar first. He couldn’t say he blamed them. It was good weather for a drink.

“S’not a bad idea.” Jim tapped the button for their floor once they were in the elevator. They were still holding hands, but he made no move to drop Bruce’s just yet. “Let’s see how dinner goes first.”

It was deliberately cryptic - there was a security camera in the corner of the elevator - but Bruce’s eyes gleamed with understanding. He nodded, and he came to lean against the wall next to Jim casually as they waited. Jim felt some small thread of relief at the knowledge that Bruce was on the same page as him here; it wasn’t the first time, and he was sure that it wouldn’t be the last either.

* * *

Jim emerged from the bathroom, fresh enough from his shower that droplets of water still lingered on his temples, to find that Bruce had set his suitcase on the end of the bed. He was already dressed - he’d showered first - and he was busy adjusting his cufflinks. 

“Well, now I feel underdressed,” Jim joked. He’d brought underwear and a tank top into the bathroom with him, but he’d left his own suit in the bedroom. 

Bruce laughed, and he kept his gaze carefully averted as Jim skirted behind him to reach his suitcase. “I’m sure you’d be more than welcome in the restaurant like that.”

“You know, somehow, I think they’d kick me out.” 

He was followed by the sound of Bruce’s quiet chuckle, and Jim found himself smiling as he got dressed. There was rustling behind him, but Jim ignored it in favour of smoothing out the wrinkles in his suit. Belatedly, he realised that he should have brought it in its own bag instead of folding it up carelessly in his luggage.

“Jim?”

“Mm?”

“What colour is your tie?”

Jim turned just enough to glance at Bruce over his shoulder. “Red. Why?”

All he could see of Bruce was a side profile. He stared down into the depths of his suitcase, head cocked as he considered something. “I don’t have a red with me, but I do have two blue ones. What about a handkerchief?”

He could see where this was going: it was the makeover Bruce had hinted at over breakfast. Jim dropped his tie back into his suitcase and pushed himself to his feet so he could fully face Bruce. “Maybe somewhere in here, but it’s not gonna match.”

Bruce exhaled a short breath through his nose. “Fair. I can arrange that. Tie pin or cufflinks?”

Jim just raised his eyebrows. “Do you really think I’d have either of those?”

He got a gentle snort of amusement for his efforts. “Okay. Come here, Jim.”

He wandered over to Bruce’s side, settling in with a few inches of respectful space between them. Jim kept his eyes firmly out of Bruce’s suitcase, even though the man himself was rummaging through what was probably painstakingly organised chaos. It didn’t matter that Bruce was about to lend him some of his belongings; Jim didn’t want to pry, so he fixed his gaze on the side of Bruce’s face.

First, Bruce tugged a handkerchief out of the depths of his bag. He folded it in a few quick, easy moves, and then tucked it into the pocket at Jim’s breast. “You know,” he said teasingly, brushing invisible dust off of the front of Jim’s jacket, “I thought you’d have done more research.”

“Even if I had, details like this wouldn’t have been in the GCPD budget.”

Bruce winked at him, and it was like a shock to his system. “We’ll see if I can arrange anything with the mayor when we get back to Gotham.”

Next, Bruce guided Jim’s wrists up so he could attach a set of cufflinks - they matched Bruce’s, Jim noticed - and then he lifted one of two pale blue ties. “Lean your head forwards for me?”

“I can do my own tie,” Jim muttered, embarrassed, but he played along anyway.

As Bruce threaded it under his collar, something burst into life in Jim’s chest. It was warm and fluttery, almost hesitant, and Jim immediately tried to trap it before it could get out of hand. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was successful.

“I’m sure you can,” Bruce laughed quietly. Neatly, he moved the knot up to Jim’s top button, and then he turned away to root through his things again. He returned seconds later to slide something onto the side of Jim’s tie - the promised tie pin, a simple band of silver to nicely compliment the tie itself. “There. Now you look a little more like your billionaire husband spoils you.”

Bruce turned back to put the finishing touches on his own outfit, and Jim stepped away to glance at himself in the mirror next to the bathroom door.

He looked _good._ Maybe Bruce was onto something.

Jim almost jumped as Bruce slid smoothly into place beside him. They matched from their ties to the rings on their fingers. That thing in Jim’s chest battered at the cage around it. 

Bruce smiled. “Perfect.” Then, more playfully, he said, “Are you ready for dinner, Mr. Wayne?”

 _“‘Mr. Wayne’?”_ Jim repeated, laughing incredulously. “You think I’d take your name?”

“Well, I’m certainly not giving mine up.” Bruce shot him an amused little grin before he broke away to scoop up his phone and wallet. “It’d be a nightmare to rebrand Wayne Enterprises.”

Jim rolled his eyes. Somehow, Bruce managed to make it sound like a problem everyone had. “Uh huh. If you’d like to continue gloating about your fortune, you can buy me dinner, you know.”

“Of course, dear.” Bruce returned to his side, looping his arm through Jim’s. “Shall we?”

* * *

Quiet classical music filtered through the restaurant, muting the soft chatter and the clink of cutlery against plates. Chandeliers glistened overhead, and even at their table in the corner, Jim still spotted the occasional sparkle drifting across the tablecloth. 

Their food hadn’t arrived yet, and Jim’s stomach was starting to grumble with hunger. He politely sipped at his wine and ignored it.

He and Bruce were busy talking, though it was nothing of consequence. Jim kept casting occasional glances out across the dining room, taking in whatever little pieces of information he could with a passing, curious look. So far, all of the architecture seemed to be in the right place, and the waiters moved amongst the tables in a way that made them almost invisible as they delivered meals and topped up drinks. So far, nothing too suspicious, and Bruce hadn’t given any indication that he’d spotted something that Jim had missed.

Their hands were linked on the table. The next turn of the chandelier sent light glinting off of his ring.

“Bruce Wayne?”

Jim watched a transformation happen before his very eyes. Bruce sat up a little straighter, and a charming, yet somehow empty, smile came to his lips before he could seem to stop it. As he turned, his fingers stayed linked with Jim’s, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

There was another couple standing next to their table. Their smiles seemed more genuine.

“Anna,” Bruce said, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The woman - Anna - looked to be around Bruce’s age, about forty if Jim had to guess. A startlingly red dress clung to her curves, matching her lipstick exactly. When Jim cast his gaze at her partner, he realised that he wore a tie of the same shade. Bruce had been right after all.

Anna’s gaze zeroed in on their hands. “And I didn’t think I’d see _you_ here, let alone with someone.” She went silent, curious as she took in their rings, their ties, their cufflinks. Jim felt the back of his neck prickle as she inspected all the little signs.

Bruce looked at Jim again, and he almost crumbled under the strength of the affection on Bruce’s face. His chest ached with the effort of holding back the jumpy, fluttering thing as he reminded himself that it was all an act. “This is Jim,” he said, squeezing his fingers gently. “We’re on our honeymoon, actually.”

“Oh! Well, congratulations.” Jim breathed a silent sigh of relief as Anna turned back to Bruce. Somehow, he caught the gaze of her partner, and he sent Jim a sympathetic little look. He seemed like he was out of his depth, too. “I never thought I’d see the day you settled down, Bruce. I thought you were still dating that woman, what was her name-”

Bruce politely dismissed the train of thought with a warm chuckle. “That was a couple of years ago now. Jim and I have known each other for some time and, well, it just fell into place. It didn’t make sense to wait.”

“We’re not getting any younger,” Jim found himself saying. He hadn’t planned on talking, damn it, but the words were out before he could stop them.

It was enough to make Anna laugh, though, thankfully. “Of course. Well, we’ll leave you two to your dinner. I wouldn’t want to interrupt. I’d love to stay and chat, but we’re leaving tomorrow morning anyway. Such a shame.”

Before she could turn away, Bruce cleared his throat to draw her back. “Anna? If you don’t mind, could you keep this between us? Jim and I aren’t exactly public, and we’d like to keep it that way. You understand.”

“I do,” she promised, placing a hand over her heart. Bruce’s shoulders visibly relaxed with relief. “I won’t breathe a word of it. It was lovely to see you. Congratulations again.”

“Thank you. It was good to see you, too.”

As she left, Bruce’s smile dropped. He leaned in towards Jim, and he met him halfway to listen to his quiet murmur. “Business associate from several years ago,” Bruce muttered. “She’s not from anywhere near Gotham, don’t worry. I barely speak to her, these days.”

Jim raised an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair again. “Several years ago and she still acts like you’re good friends?”

“Wouldn’t it be the same between the Gotham and Metropolis police departments?” Bruce asked, head cocked. 

Jim inclined his head. “Point taken.” 

Their food arrived shortly after - a steak for Jim and lobster for Bruce - and as their waiter walked away, Jim said, “So, I’m not actually pulling you away from a real spouse-to-be, am I?”

Bruce grimaced at him over the rim of his wineglass. “No. That woman Anna mentioned really was my last relationship. Before this,” he paused, wiggling his left hand meaningfully, “I hadn’t thought much about dating. I just didn’t have the time.”

“Ah. Understandable.” Jim shoved a forkful of food in his mouth before he could put his foot in it.

But Bruce stared at him curiously, his head tilted gently to one side as he swirled his wine. “What about you? You don’t have a wife waiting for you at home, do you?”

Jim swallowed a little harder than he’d intended; his throat burned, and he soothed it with a quick sip of his drink. “Wouldn’t be a wife,” he said pointedly, “and no, there’s nobody waiting for me, not unless you count my one plant that Renee’s watering for me. There’s also my daughter, but she can take care of herself.”

Bruce laughed quietly over his food, and Jim couldn’t tell if he was imagining the gentle dust of pink on his cheeks. “No husband waiting for you at home, then,” he replied, correcting himself. “Good to know I’m not treading on anyone’s toes.”

“Yeah,” Jim agreed. “Well, unless your kids are likely to give me hell if they find out.”

Bruce was definitely blushing now. Jim found himself desperately wishing he knew why. “I don’t think it’d be a problem. You might have to convince Damian, though.”

“Your youngest, right?”

He watched as Bruce’s face lit up, and what followed was a flood of chatting about his children. It was ridiculously endearing; Bruce had nothing but praise for each and every one of them, and love positively dripped from every word. This was yet another thing on the increasingly long list of new information about Bruce, and Jim found himself tucking it in right alongside everything else without even noticing he’d done so. He even offered up his own side, finding that he enjoyed that they had the common thread of fatherhood to bond over. 

Really, it was a good thing that the restaurant seemed to be clean, because Jim found himself hanging on the conversation much more honestly than he’d intended. He didn’t notice dessert as it came and went, but he _did_ know just how much Bruce cared about his family, and it was only then that Jim realised how much more genuine Bruce was acting with him than he had with Anna.

* * *

“You can have the first shower,” Jim said, gesturing ahead to the bedroom as he closed the door behind him. “Where do you want me to put your cufflinks and things?”

“Oh, you can just leave them on your side of the bed.” Bruce shrugged it off like he did his jacket, folding it neatly over his forearm as he wandered through the archway into the bedroom. “I’m sure you’ll need them again, you might as well hold onto them while we’re here.”

He looked away as Bruce removed his tie. It felt a lot like he was intruding, so he pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a seat on the couch instead. “Will do. Take your time, by the way, there’s no rush.”

“I’ll still try not to be too long.”

There was more rustling of fabric, and then the quiet click of the bathroom door. When Jim shot a glance through to the bedroom again, Bruce had vanished, and his suitcase was no longer on the foot of the bed.

He sunk back into the couch with a heavy breath. It was later than he’d like, but he was used to late nights. It felt odd to try and force himself back onto a regular rhythm when his body expected him to be on a rooftop, waiting for Batman. He’d never thought he’d miss cold, drizzly, damp Gotham, but this place was already beginning to remind him of why he preferred it.

Jim loved the pulse of the city, the way it buzzed with life and activity. This relaxed, easygoing pace was nice for a break, but he knew it wouldn’t keep him satisfied for very long.

He pulled up his texts with Renee, tapping out a quick message. _How’s Gotham?_

To his surprise, three dots appeared as she began replying almost immediately. As he read, he could almost hear the gentle sarcasm that he knew was threaded through her words. _Quiet, but it’s only been one day. You don’t need to babysit us, Jim._

_I’m not babysitting, I’m checking in._

_Then if you’re checking in, how are things on your end?_

He tapped his foot in a clumsy rhythm, thinking back on the day’s progress. _Slow. Nothing groundbreaking to report yet. Anything exciting back home?_

_I spoke to Batman tonight. Is Robin always so snappy with him?_

_Depends on the night. He can get a little rowdy sometimes._

_Well, he seemed rowdier than usual. Must just be because it’s a slow night. They ran off to go patrol anyway._

Jim was sure that they’d come up with something by the end of the night. They usually did, even if it wasn’t one of the usual handful of villains. It helped just to have some extra eyes on the streets, ones that weren’t necessarily bound to jump through the same hoops as the GCPD. 

_I’ll let you go. Keep me updated, though, Renee. I don’t wanna be too out of the loop when I get home._

_That’s if you ever come home. How’s the billionaire lifestyle treating you?_

He chuckled aloud, unable to help himself. _So far, it’s not too bad, thanks. Ask me again in a week, and I’m sure I’ll tell you I miss Gotham._

_Don’t know how you could manage to miss here. Make sure you check in too, I’d like to know if we need to send in Batman after you._

_I’ll be fine. Say hi to him for me, and thank him for the idea._

_Will do. Night, Jim._

As he switched to browsing the news, Jim’s thoughts wandered. All was indeed quiet in Gotham, it seemed, and it brought him a surprising amount of relief to hear it. He hadn’t realised how soothing it was until now; even when Jim took time off from work, he still spent it in Gotham. Barbara still lived with him anyway so he didn’t need to travel to see her, and he didn’t exactly have an exciting social life. It suited him just fine, but he wondered now if maybe it _was_ a good idea to get out of Gotham once in a while.

The bathroom door opened once more, and Bruce emerged amongst a gentle cloud of steam. He was already clad in his pyjamas, though wet spots clung to his shoulders where he’d missed them with the towel. “All yours,” he said, padding out to the couch. 

“Thanks.” They traded places, Bruce settling in on the couch with his phone now to give Jim some privacy. He paused to carefully place all of Bruce’s borrowed things on his bedside table, and then he neatly folded his suit on top of his closed suitcase to hopefully keep it as tidy as possible. It was probably a lost cause, but he could still try. 

By the time he emerged from his shower, Bruce had migrated to the bed, tucked in on his side with a book in his hands. The sight struck a chord somehow, one that Jim ignored as he came around to settle in on his side. 

“I’m beat,” he sighed, sinking back into the pillows. 

“We didn’t even do much today,” Bruce chuckled.

“I know.” Jim waved a hand in the air above him. “I haven’t done this much thinking for so much of the day since… Jesus, forever. Since I was a rookie, probably.”

Bruce hummed on his right, the sound laced with amusement. “You’re telling me you don’t actually do any investigating while you’re at work? Is meeting with Batman just for show for the papers?”

“That doesn’t count. He does half of the work.”

Bruce just laughed quietly again. Jim found himself smiling too, despite how odd it was to just… relax in bed next to Bruce Wayne while he read a book. It was almost strangely domestic, like they really _were_ a married couple - although, perhaps it was more reminiscent of a long married couple rather than newlyweds.

As they settled in - Bruce put his book to one side, and Jim set his glasses on the bedside table right next to the cufflinks - he realised that investigating with Bruce felt a little like investigating with Batman. So far, he’d proven himself to be just as sharp, and Jim definitely saw why Batman had recommended him. It felt easy with Bruce, and just as comfortable, too. He wasn’t sure how successful this would be if he’d taken anyone else in his place.

Jim shifted to get comfortable, shoving his pillow into a better position with his shoulder. “Night,” he said into the darkness.

There was a soft laugh, warm and somehow familiar. “Goodnight, Jim.” 

It lingered in his mind long after he began to slip into sleep, plucking at something in his mind, but he was gone before he could think about it too much.


	3. Day 2

Morning saw them having breakfast in the restaurant, which was a little less glitzy and glamorous earlier in the day. It was a surprise to see more relaxed clothing instead of just suits and dresses; even Bruce hadn’t batted an eyelid at Jim’s choice of a shirt and shorts, unlike the previous day. In fact, Bruce wore something similar as he scrolled his phone and waited for his food, and he even had a pair of sunglasses perched on his head.

Bruce was an enigma, and Jim was only just beginning to understand that. He was no closer to figuring him out, though.

“So,” Bruce said, neatly locking his phone and smiling at Jim, “what do you want to do today?”

Jim scanned the room idly, noting some now familiar faces in both the staff and the guests. Warm light streamed in through the windows, promising an even warmer day later on; he was abruptly grateful for the AC inside Paradise. 

“We could try the casino later,” he suggested, curving his hands around his mug of coffee. “For today…”

“There’s the gym,” Bruce reminded him, “but it doesn’t really lend itself to getting to know the guests.”

Jim snorted before he took a sip of coffee. “I think you might be more suited to the gym anyway. Don’t think I’d fit in there.”

Bruce laughed along with him, and Jim ignored the odd stirring feeling in his chest. “Then I’ll go to the gym, and you try out the bar.” There was a cheeky smile on his lips as he reached for his own coffee, and Jim found himself chuckling before Bruce even cocked a playful eyebrow and said, “That seems more your speed.”

He knocked his foot against Bruce’s under the table. “Thanks,  _ dear. _ People will think there’s trouble in paradise already.”

Bruce winked at him. “Not necessarily. Just don’t have too much to drink and I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

A waiter brought their breakfast over, setting it down before them with a flourish. He was gone before they could properly thank him, straight back through the doors to the kitchen. Jim shrugged and scooped up his cutlery. “Well, I don’t plan to start drinking before midday, so I don’t think there’s any risk there.”

“Well…”

Jim paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. “What?”

Mischief danced across Bruce’s face, barely hidden as he neatly laced his fingers beneath his chin. “We could always try the spa first.”

“There’s a  _ spa?” _

* * *

There was, as it turned out, a spa. Jim wasn’t sure why he was surprised.

They made a detour to collect their swimming trunks from their luggage, as well as a change of clothes so they could go their separate ways afterwards. Bruce sent him an amused little smile out of the corners of his eyes as he booked them a private slot with the hot tub, and Jim pressed back the odd bubble of interest at the back of his mind. He had more important things to do than eye up his undercover partner, though the distant interest of Jim’s libido didn’t seem to get the message.

Jim sighed as he sunk into the hot, bubbling water, and any tension in his body seemed to melt away instantly. He kept his arms free, pressing them along the wall behind him; if he stretched, he could rest his hand over Bruce’s, and he did just that. 

“So,” he said, once the room was free of staff, “why did you wanna check this out? Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

Bruce chuckled, idly tangling his fingers with Jim’s. It was all for show, of course, but it still felt pleasant. He was beginning to enjoy the feeling of Bruce’s hand in his - and, even more dangerously, the touch of Bruce’s ring under his fingertips. “I figured it’d be a good idea to see how they make guests feel  _ special. _ Maybe we’ll get some leads.”

“Or just some champagne,” Jim replied dryly.

“That, too,” Bruce agreed. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back with a soft smile. 

Something fluttered insistently behind Jim’s ribs, something that was brought on by their joined hands and the way Bruce just relaxed around him. Brick by brick, Jim built a wall in front of it, forcing it out and away. This was fake, he reminded himself, and Bruce was doing him a favour by providing him with cover. It wasn’t his fault that he was a good enough actor that it could convince even him. 

This was nice -  _ too _ nice. If Jim wasn’t careful, he was going to get used to it. 

In the end, it was a good thing that they kept their hands linked; it wasn’t long before staff returned to offer champagne, just as they’d suspected, and Jim gladly accepted. Maybe it would soothe his nerves.

Instead, it just resulted in him and Bruce clinking glasses like it wasn’t their first toast, and when Bruce smiled at him in a genuine and  _ fond _ way, Jim found himself taking a longer gulp. The burn of bubbles in his throat didn’t help, and when he set down his empty flute behind him, he was too distracted to realise that Bruce had finished his just as quickly.

* * *

“Have fun,” Jim said. He hoisted a backpack higher onto his shoulder; it carried their towels and swimming trunks, tucked away in there for now until they were both done investigating. It left Bruce’s hands empty for his trip into the gym, and Jim didn’t mind carrying the bag anyway. He considered Bruce, raising his eyebrows as he added, “I don’t know why you didn’t want to go to the spa  _ after _ the gym.”

Bruce shrugged. “I thought the spa would be a good start. Besides, I’m not looking to do anything too strenuous.”

“I think you and I have very different ideas of strenuous,  _ dear.” _

The playful jab was worth it for Bruce’s laugh; the sound of it had Jim cracking a smile, and that  _ something _ bubbled in his chest. He left Bruce at the entrance to the gym with a kiss on the cheek - something he still wasn’t used to, but it was oddly nice - and then headed off to the bar with a book under his arm that he had no intention of reading. Jim ordered himself a coke, and then he settled at a table in the corner of the room, putting his back to the wall so he could have an unrestricted view of the rest of the room. The spine of his book cracked satisfyingly as he opened it, and he glanced down to pretend to skim the page.

It was easy observation work, really. As Jim took small, measured sips of his drink, he let his gaze wander to different parts of the room. Admittedly, maybe midday wasn’t the best time to come  _ here _ of all places, but it meant that he could get a better lay of the land for another visit; it was quiet except for a couple other patrons and the bar staff, so he couldn’t be as obvious as he wanted to, but he could see everything without a crowd of people in the way. Still, he had to settle for quick glances.

There was, predictably, a staff door behind the bar. For the most part, the rest of the room seemed to be as exactly as the blueprints stated, right down to the weird little indent on the opposite side of the bar.

What  _ was _ new, however, was the door over there.

It wasn’t exactly hidden. Jim supposed that that was only fair, given that staff probably weren’t expecting someone to have access to the plans for the whole resort. He also couldn’t recall there being a planned room behind that space, though, oddly enough. 

Idly, Jim scratched at his chin, his nails rasping over the scruff he hadn’t yet shaved, and he went back to his book.

Staff came and went over the course of the next hour, and Jim watched the door carefully out of the corners of his eyes. It opened only twice: once to admit a member of staff, and again to let them out afterwards. As far as Jim could tell, he wasn’t carrying anything; he just walked straight out of the bar and around the corner to the rest of Paradise.

Interesting.

Bruce returned soon enough, and he came straight over to his table to drop into the seat opposite. His cheeks were still flushed from his workout, and there was an errant lock of hair stuck to his forehead. There was a smile firmly plastered on his face, though, a  _ genuine _ one - Jim didn’t question how he knew the real ones from the fake ones already - as he reached over to rest his fingers lightly on Jim’s arm in greeting. “Do you mind if I finish off your drink?”

“Go for it.” Jim nudged the glass towards him. “Don’t you want water?”

Bruce shrugged a lazy shoulder. He was still wearing his workout clothes; he hadn’t taken a trip to their room before coming to collect him. “I’ll have some when we get upstairs.” He knocked back the last of Jim’s coke with ease, sighing gratefully as he set the empty glass down again. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Jim fought back an amused little smile. “How was the gym?”

“Fine,” he said. “I prefer the one back home, but that’s not surprising.” Bruce raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “How was your book?”

Jim knew he wasn’t talking about his reading. He wasn’t sure what it said about him to realise that he and Bruce had already started developing their own little language, filled with subtle gestures and hidden meanings. He chose not to look into it too much. “Interesting,” he said, dogearing the page he was on before closing it. “I’ll tell you about it when we get back upstairs. You probably want a shower.”

“That  _ does _ sound like a good idea,” Bruce agreed. He pulled himself to his feet to follow Jim, and he tried not to jump when Bruce easily,  _ naturally _ slipped his fingers between his own.

He waited until they were secured back in their own room before he began to really tell Bruce what he’d seen. Jim busied himself with checking the blueprints against his findings as he talked, perched on the edge of the bed as he peered down at it. Supposedly, there was just empty space back there, empty space that belonged  _ outside _ the walls of the hotel portion of Paradise, and while Jim hadn’t been able to see much through the sliver of the door, it had definitely been inside the building. 

Bruce lingered in the archway, leaning against it as he listened attentively. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips, one that was distantly familiar. It struck something in Jim’s memory, back in the shadowy depths that he couldn’t quite grasp.

Jim put it down to publicity photos.

“What?” he asked, pausing with his finger still pressed to the blueprints.

“Nothing.” Bruce looked away, and as he did, the smile came out properly. It was blinding. “I didn’t want to interrupt, but I  _ do _ need to shower and change, ideally before we head out again.”

“Ah.” Flustered, Jim folded the blueprints again. “Sorry, I got wrapped up in the case. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Bruce’s chuckle was low and soft, and to Jim’s alarm, it sent warmth prickling across the back of his neck. “It’s fine,” Bruce said, pushing off from the archway to head over to his suitcase. “I was enjoying listening to you, actually. Do you have a plan for getting in there yet?”

Jim scooped up his notes so he could excuse himself to the couch. He kept his back to the bedroom to grant Bruce some privacy. “Not yet,” he said, spreading the plans out across the coffee table. Automatically, he organised it all how he liked: blueprints front and centre, his notepad to the right, assorted pens up at the top. “Maybe I can try when it’s busy in there.”

“We’ll visit one evening, I’m sure it’ll be more lively then.” Bruce zipped his suitcase shut, and then Jim heard the now familiar click of the bathroom door as it opened. “I won’t be long. Feel free to order lunch if you’re hungry.”

As Jim marked out the mystery door on the blueprints, he hummed a wordless confirmation. “Enjoy your shower,” he said, already distracted.

Once the door was closed, though, Jim slumped back against the cushions with a heavy sigh, rubbing his palm across his face. He wasn’t sure what the weight sitting on his chest was, but it was heavy and insistent, thoroughly demanding his attention before he was ready to give it. The surprising warmth brought on by Bruce’s laugh lingered with it, and when Jim swallowed hard, it didn’t go away. Whatever it was, it was here to stay, and he had a funny feeling that it would be sticking around until they were done here.

Or, maybe, work would get rid of it. Jim reached for his notebook and a pen, but he didn’t get very far.

* * *

They traded places once Bruce was done with his shower. Jim was desperate for one of his own, as well as the opportunity to shave. 

The hot water was soothing, dragging the tension from his muscles as it raced across his skin. He stood there under the spray for a long few minutes before he actually started soaping up. Even then, he took his time away from the case; Jim had long since learned to treasure moments like this, and he wasn’t about to stop now. 

Eventually, though, he stepped out again to dry off, and as he hung up his towel, the ring on his finger caught his attention. 

Even now, only on the second day, it felt like a natural weight on his hand. Jim hadn’t even noticed how comfortable it felt until right then; he’d just automatically slid it back into place after getting up that morning, pausing only to flex his fingers at the strange, cold feeling of it on his skin. It hadn’t taken long to warm up, though, and then he’d promptly forgotten about it again.

It was odd. Jim hadn’t anticipated getting used to it, not this early on. He shook off the lingering thoughts like cobwebs and dipped his hand into his toiletry bag to find his razor.

By the time he’d neatened up the stubble on his jaw and dressed again, Bruce had changed - or, more accurately, was half dressed. He had his buttoned shirt and his trousers on in preparation for the rest of the afternoon and evening, but he hadn’t made it any further; he’d dropped onto the couch with his phone to his ear, and his head was bowed into his free hand so he could rub at his forehead. Jim bit back a laugh when Bruce let out a long suffering sigh.

“Let your brother on the computer,” he murmured, his voice a flat drone. “I’m sure Tim can figure it out.”

Jim made his presence known with a wave. Bruce returned it with a roll of his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter that it’s  _ your _ work, Jason,” he continued, pushing himself to his feet. Bruce held his phone between his shoulder and his cheek as he joined Jim to continue getting dressed, tugging on his jacket somewhat awkwardly. “I can’t help you right now. Your brothers and Alfred are right there, and they can.”

There was a longer pause this time. Jim tried not to snicker as he fiddled with his cufflinks. 

Bruce straightened up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Just ask Tim, Jason. I need to go. I can’t sit and troubleshoot for you.” He nodded, even though Jim was the only one to see it. “Okay. You, too. I’ll talk to you later.”

As soon as Bruce had hung up, Jim raised his eyebrows. “Trouble back home?”

“Just Jason being stubborn,” Bruce said, shrugging. With his hands free now that he’d placed his phone on the bedside table, Bruce started to add his accessories in record time: cufflinks, tie, pin, pocket square, all on before Jim had even finished with the first of the four. “He’ll work through it.”

“And there you were being a loving dad last night,” Jim teased.

As Jim reached up to loop his tie around his neck, Bruce came over to adjust the cufflinks properly for him. “I  _ do _ love my sons,” he agreed, a touch amused, “but I don’t think it was necessary to call me about the computer.”

“Maybe not.” Jim offered Bruce his other wrist obediently when Bruce was done with the first, and he used his free hand to try and wiggle the pin onto his tie. “I’m surprised he even called. I figured you told ‘em you were on vacation.”

Bruce arched an eyebrow. “You think I told them I went on vacation with the commissioner? The commissioner that I had no previous ties to?”

Jim’s cheeks coloured. “Alright, point taken. I didn’t know if you tried the same cover story on them.”

“My children are, unfortunately, far too inquisitive for a lie like that.” Bruce’s hands dropped, leaving Jim to use both of his own to neaten up the knot at his throat. “No, I told them that I was helping the GCPD, and that I would be away for a week or two.” At Jim’s look, Bruce added, “I trust them - the boys  _ and _ Alfred. They’ll keep the secret.”

To his surprise, Jim wasn’t as annoyed as he thought he would be by the reveal. Initially, he had felt a bubble of frustration and worry rise in his throat - this mission was supposed to be as secret as possible; not even the GCPD really knew where he was, just that he was undercover - but as Bruce had continued, Jim felt it just… melt away. It made sense, after all; there wasn’t really a good way to explain Bruce vanishing with the head of the GCPD. And, at the end of the day, Barbara knew about as much as Bruce’s kids did, so it wouldn’t really be reasonable to complain.

Bruce watched him carefully, and Jim tilted his head with a little puff of air through his nose. “Fair enough,” he said at last.

“You’re not mad?”

“That you told your kids what you were up to? Nah.”

Bruce blinked. “I… I honestly thought you’d be a little more worried about compromising the mission.”

Jim folded his pocket square, nonchalantly tucking it into the front of his jacket. “Bruce, I trust you. If you trust your family, then I do, too. Plus, you said it yourself: there’s not even a good lie to tell there. By the sounds of things, they would’ve seen right through it.”

“They would have.”

“So there’s no problem. Either way, Babs knows, so it’s a moot point.” Jim patted himself down - he had his wallet, his phone, his keycard - and then glanced up at Bruce. “You ready to go?”

A smile gradually made its way across Bruce’s face again, beginning at the corners of his mouth until it reached his eyes. He offered Jim his elbow, and he took it, curving his palm to comfortably rest against Bruce’s arm. 

When Jim met his gaze, he realised that Bruce had gone right back to acting playful, just like he’d never stopped. “Ready when you are, dear.”

* * *

The casino was like something out of a movie. There was, of course, an area dedicated to slot machines for those who preferred solo play, but they were tucked out of the way behind a door with a thick panel of frosted glass. It muted the noise from behind and dampened the flashing lights, leaving the main floor to speak for itself.

Tables sprawled across the plush carpeted floor, and there were all manner of games on offer. Jim saw cards, dice, and a couple of roulette wheels scattered between them, with players talking in hushed voices amongst themselves. There was the occasional clink of a glass or a delighted laugh, but for the most part, all he could hear was the soft strains of something classical through the hidden speakers. For once, Jim felt every bit the trophy husband on Bruce’s arm as they descended the few steps to the carpet. 

Bruce exchanged money for chips - a ridiculous amount, quite frankly, that he claimed he’d set aside for this very purpose - and he split it evenly between the both of them. Jim swallowed hard at the sight of that much cash disappearing behind the grill. “You’re sure?”

“Of course, dear,” Bruce said smoothly, nudging Jim’s pile closer to his hands with a charming smile. “What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t give you plenty to play with?”

He was back to his billionaire playboy persona now, shrugging it on like a comfortable coat. Underneath it, though, Jim could see a glimmer of the Bruce he knew, and he could tell by the sparkle in those eyes that he was laughing. He was hard pressed to hide his own grin.

Jim was no stranger to gambling. He liked to think he wasn’t that bad at Texas Hold ‘Em after many years of playing it with friends both in and out of the force, and while they didn’t usually put much on the table, he’d won himself a few dollars here and there when they’d all had enough to drink to consider putting money down. Poker was, admittedly, about the extent of his knowledge, though, so as Bruce jingled some of his chips in his palm merrily, Jim realised he didn’t even know where to start.

“I’ll get us some drinks,” he said, glancing across the room to the bar tucked away in the corner. “What’re you having?”

“Whiskey, please.” Bruce pressed a kiss to his temple as easily as he breathed. “Any preference on game?”

Jim shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Are you not a gambler?”

“Not exactly.” Jim nodded at him. “But you are?”

The corners of Bruce’s mouth twitched upwards. “Not exactly,” he repeated, amused, “but when you spend a lot of time with other rich people…”

It rubbed off, Jim supposed. He shook his head with a snort, and then he lightly tapped Bruce’s side. “Fair enough. Go on, pick something out. I’ll be back in a minute.”

As Bruce smoothly disappeared into the crowd, Jim took a long, unnecessarily meandering path around the casino. It was deliberate, of course; like clockwork, he checked for the exits, for the staff doors, anything unusual that might catch his eye. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary here, though as he wandered closer to the bar, he did notice one or two faces in the staff that kept taking the same route. 

Time after time, they visited a table to speak quietly to someone, vanished through a particular door, and then came right back to the table. Jim couldn’t see if anything was handed over, but he suspected that it was the case.

A bartender greeted him with a welcoming smile as he settled in. “Good evening, sir. What can I get you?”

“A whiskey,” Jim said, drumming his fingers on the bar thoughtfully, “and a rum and coke.”

The bartender whisked away, and Jim turned to look out across the room again. He scanned it carefully in an effort to find Bruce, only to spot him not so far away playing Blackjack. At the minute, he seemed to be chatting casually with the other players at the table while the dealer shuffled the deck. He fit right in alongside the other rich folk peppered throughout the casino.

Jim found it a little difficult to tear his gaze away from him. He forced himself to look elsewhere, to look  _ anywhere _ else, to do his fucking  _ job, _ but he kept coming back to Bruce.

He looked  _ good. _

Jim was no stranger to the fact that Bruce was handsome, but in that moment, it struck him like a tidal wave. Bruce tipped his head back to laugh, and while it was still coated in that thick veneer of fake charm, Jim saw the man underneath: funny, warm, resourceful,  _ clever. _ Right now, as he dripped money and class in his expensive suit, he looked every bit the billionaire he was, but there was something there that Jim couldn’t name that the others in the room just didn’t have.

He forced himself to look elsewhere, and he landed on another attractive man. Handsome enough, typically speaking; certainly the kind of man that usually caught Jim’s eye.

He blinked.

He looked at Bruce again. Jim couldn’t even remember the colour of the other man’s hair.

Someone cleared their throat behind him. “Your drinks, sir.”

Jim inhaled a sharp breath, and oxygen rushed through him in an urgent buzz. How long had he been holding his breath? “Thanks,” he said, slapping a bill on the bar. “Keep the change, buddy.”

As the bartender drifted away once more, Jim scooped up the drinks, steeled himself, and headed over to the Blackjack table.

Bruce was already smiling as he approached. Something private twinkled in his eyes, and Jim swallowed hard to get past the lump in his throat. “Thank you, dear,” he said, taking the offered drink and looping his free arm around Jim’s middle. He was infinitely grateful for the pet names they’d adopted then; Jim didn’t tend to use them in real relationships, so it was a perfect little shield that he latched onto in an instant, desperate to protect himself from the feelings and desires rumbling threateningly under the surface.

“Of course.” Where he was sat, Bruce came comfortably high enough for Jim to rest an arm across his shoulders, and he did so now lazily. “How’s the game going?”

“Well enough.” Bruce tilted his head towards the table, an eyebrow raised. “Do you want to play a round?”

Jim stared at the table - and the guests - warily. He knew the premise of Blackjack, but there was a world of difference between playing it with a single deck by himself and playing it in a full casino. “I’ll watch you,” he said, patting Bruce’s shoulder. “You’re doing well enough by yourself.”

“It won’t bite,” Bruce chuckled, though Jim had the distinct feeling that it might. “I’ll go first, and then you can cut in.”

And so Jim found himself standing there, draped over Bruce like he belonged there, while Bruce schmoozed with the other guests. His arm stayed anchored around Jim’s waist, and he was fairly certain that the shape of his hand would be branded against his hip for days to come; it was warm even through the jacket, burning against Jim’s side in a bizarrely possessive display. Jim was  _ his, _ and it was plain for anyone to see.

Jim gulped at his rum and coke, grateful for the burn in his throat. 

Bruce was acting. He was playing pretend, showing the others up by declaring the obvious in an attempt to make them slip. That was what Jim told himself, at least.

It  _ had _ to be the case, because otherwise there was no reason for Bruce to curl his fingers over Jim’s shoulders when he took the chair, no explanation for why he leaned in to murmur encouragement against his ear. Bruce’s chest pressed against his back, his chin settled on his shoulder, and Jim choked down the rest of his drink in an effort to suppress whatever it was that was rising in the back of his mind until he could be alone in the bathroom of their room.

“Your left,” Bruce whispered, his breath rushing against his ear. 

_ The case. _

Jim sucked in another too deep breath, and he made a conscious effort to try and exhale it in a more measured way as he glanced casually to his left. One of the familiar waiters approached their table, a charming smile on her face as she leaned in to speak to a glamorous older woman. They spoke quietly, soft enough that Jim couldn’t pick it up over the clatter of chips and dice, and then she disappeared through that particular door he’d noticed.

“Sir?” the dealer prompted.

Jim licked his lips. “Hit.”

The new card put him at solid nineteen. Close, but not close enough. 

Only a handful of minutes passed before the waiter came back. The edge of the table wasn’t enough to disguise the way she pressed something into the guest’s hand. 

Bruce squeezed his shoulders again as she walked away. “Nice job,” he murmured. Jim shivered.

The dealer pressed their winnings towards him, and Jim scooped them up. He turned on his seat, and Bruce’s hands dropped; he wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse. 

“Wanna try a different game?” Bruce offered Jim his hand, palm up. There was something playing on his face behind his mask, flickering at the edges like a flame. It made Jim’s stomach swoop in an all too familiar way, one that told him that wall he’d desperately tried to construct was crumbling like sand before a wave of things he wasn’t quite ready to analyse yet. Truth be told, he wasn’t entirely sure that he ever could or even  _ should. _ Bruce was much too far out of his league anyway.

And yet, despite himself and his doubts, Jim placed his hand in Bruce’s. 


	4. Day 3

Mornings were, oddly, routine now. Jim pushed himself to get up first so he could run through his preparation for the day - showering, brushing his teeth, a shave if his stubble demanded - and by the time Bruce was reluctantly pulling himself out from underneath the covers, Jim was dressed comfortably and casually. This time, rather than urge Bruce to be ready before he had even lifted his head from the pillow, Jim picked up the phone to order breakfast again so it would arrive by the time he had emerged from the bathroom.

Jim was surprised to find that he was disappointed to see Bruce’s hair combed neatly into place. Usually, it was in complete disarray in the mornings. It was, admittedly, adorable.

He tried - and promptly failed - to shake off the thought.

“Oh, thank you,” Bruce sighed, descending on his coffee like a man starved. He wasn’t even fully dressed - all he’d managed to drag to the bathroom with himself was shorts, apparently - but after a few gulps, he turned back to the bedroom to continue hunting for clothes. “You’re a lifesaver, Jim. I’ll be back for the food in a moment.”

He vanished around the corner, and Jim chuckled fondly around his mouthful of eggs. “Take your time,” he said, reaching towards the coffee table to tug his notebook closer.

There, scribbled hastily but somehow still neatly, was a list of what he’d noticed at the casino the previous night. Next to it were the points that he’d picked out to look into further - so far, the door at the bar, the secretive staff in the casino, and just where those extra buildings he’d seen on their walk connected to. It was already a decent chunk of work and time, and they hadn’t even visited everything that Paradise had to offer just yet. 

“How would you feel about the pool today?” Jim asked. “Other than that, it’s just the tennis courts left to check out.” Ideally, he wanted to hit both just to cross them off the list, and then he could zero in his focus on fewer points. The sooner that happened, the better.

“We can do both,” Bruce called back. He emerged from the bedroom again, clothed now, and plopped down onto the couch next to Jim. As he carefully placed his plate on his lap, he peered over at the papers spread out before them, curious. “What about last night? Don’t you want to see about that room in the casino?”

“I do,” Jim said, “but not yet. Can’t be too obvious about going back.”

Bruce hummed thoughtfully as he popped a bite of food into his mouth. “Maybe we just had a really good time and we wanted to go again. We did come away with more than we started with, after all.”

“Somehow,” Jim snorted. He’d been lucky with a couple spins of the roulette wheel, but after the whole experience, Jim was pretty sure he still preferred the comfort of cards with some friends. “I still can’t believe you let me throw around your money like that.”

_ “Our _ money,” Bruce teased, grinning at him. 

Jim chuckled and deliberately ignored the way he could feel warmth rising up in his chest. “Our money, then. Doesn’t matter. You still let me throw it around, and then  _ keep _ the winnings.”

“If you don’t want it, donate it. It’s where it would be going anyway.”

Privately, Jim had already decided on doing just that. It was too much of a generous gift, and it didn’t feel right to keep it. He just hummed in reply as he scanned his notes once more, choosing instead to let the matter drop for now. He could deal with it when they got back to Gotham.

Once they were done eating, Bruce stacked their plates and mugs neatly back onto the tray, and Jim packed up his investigative supplies to hide away safely. He buried them back into his suitcase, into a hidden pocket where they all belonged. It didn’t hurt to be too careful, even though their cameras had shown no sign of anyone entering their room. Even housekeeping had stayed out, thanks to the little notice on the door handle.

“So,” he said, straightening up, “do you wanna take a leisurely walk to the tennis courts? I figure we can start there, and relax at the pool after, unlike you doing it backwards yesterday.”

Bruce rolled his eyes as he scooped up the tray; he probably planned on handing it off downstairs rather than inviting anyone into their room to collect it. “I didn’t  _ plan _ on doing things in that order, but for what it’s worth, yes, tennis first, pool later.”

Jim tried and failed to bite back a smirk, and as he held the door open for Bruce, he saw an answering smile on his face.

* * *

In hindsight, it had probably been a bad idea to try and run surveillance while playing tennis against Bruce. Jim was well aware of the fact that he was physically fit - he had eyes, and Bruce had mentioned having his own gym only yesterday - but he hadn’t thought about it in the context of sports. He’d assumed that Bruce worked out just to stay fit, and for not much else.

He was very, very wrong.

Jim sighed as the ball went sailing past him again, rattling against the fence behind him. “Is this a bad time to mention that I don’t play tennis?”

On the other side of the court, Bruce twirled his racket in his hand. Jim could see his grin from a mile off. “Probably,” he called back. “You know, if you’d mentioned it, I might have gone easier on you.” 

Jim waved his hand in a vague gesture of acceptance before he turned to scoop up the ball. Somehow, he doubted that Bruce would have toned it down; he seemed determined to make Jim sweat to even hit the ball back, never mind actually  _ win _ a point. He, on the other hand, looked perfectly at ease, and Jim wondered just how many times Bruce had played tennis with various clients of Wayne Enterprises’ over the years. 

Before he could do much more than bounce the ball, however, another couple approached the fence around their court, rackets in hand. “Hey,” one of the men said, waving in greeting, “are you guys interested in some doubles?”

Bruce cocked his head at Jim, silent and expectant. He was leaving it up to him, he realised. 

Jim shrugged at Bruce, and then turned to offer them a friendly smile. “Sure. Can’t promise I’ll put up a good fight, though.”

“That’s fine,” the guy laughed. He led the way, circling around to the gate. His partner ducked in ahead of him, holding it open for him to follow. And then, as he took them both in, he added, “Hey, don’t you look familiar?”

For one heartstopping moment, Jim thought it was directed at him, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he actually followed the man’s gaze right to Bruce. There was a polite smile in place as he came to Jim’s side, and his chuckle was warm, if fake to Jim’s ears. “Bruce Wayne,” he said, holding out his hand for him to shake. Recognition crossed over the man’s features instantly. “And this is my husband, Jim.”

It sounded so  _ natural _ coming from Bruce. Before Jim could protest it, his brain neatly wrapped up those words and tucked them away to haunt him with later.

“Zack,” the first man said, clasping Bruce’s hand in his own, “and my partner, Mike.”

Once handshakes were traded, they settled in on their sides of the court. Jim tossed the ball to Bruce so he could serve for them, and he comfortably backed up to give Bruce the position in front. He was easily the better of them, after all, and it gave Jim a little more breathing room to look around.

Or so he thought.

While Jim got the chance to take in their surroundings at the start - nothing of note, thankfully - there wasn’t, in fact, any breathing room to spare. Bruce did a pretty good job of holding things down for their side, but Jim found himself pacing back and forth with the ball, lunging for it when it missed Bruce just to thwack it back in the right direction. At least the rounds were longer now, he supposed; he did feel a little bad for promising Bruce a game only to give him very little to work with.

He was sweating through his shirt by the time Zack held up his hand to pause. Jim swiped his wrist across his forehead with a grimace; he needed a shower before their pool trip now. 

Bruce jogged over to him with a bottle of water, pressing it into his free hand. “They’re good,” he admitted, twisting the cap off of his own bottle to take a few quick swallows. “Have you seen anything?”

“Nope.” Jim pressed his water to his cheek for a moment, just to feel the cold on his overheated skin. “Nothing out here. Doesn’t hurt to build a rapport, though.”

“Mm.” Bruce glanced back over at Zack and Mike where they stood off to the side, chatting animatedly. Judging by the way Mike gestured towards the court, they were talking strategy. “Do you think it’s worth getting closer?”

Jim considered it for a moment, and then shook his head. “Nah. We don’t want them trying to find out more about us, or chase us for dinner. That’s more trouble than it’s worth.” 

“Good point.” Bruce took another sip, and his tongue darted out to trace a stray drop of water on his lip. Jim deliberately looked away as Bruce went back to finish his water. “In that case,” he said, screwing the cap back on, “we can do one more and then wrap up. That’ll give us the whole afternoon to work with.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Jim crumpled up his empty bottle with a sigh. He wished he had more. “C’mon, let’s beat these guys. Maybe I’ve picked up a thing or two by now.”

Bruce dipped in to kiss his cheek before he pulled away - Jim almost forgot  _ why _ until he remembered that there were people around - and then he resumed his spot at the front of the court, leaning over the net to call the plan to the other two. Jim settled in at the back once more, desperately willing his heart to slow down.

* * *

Paradise’s pool was a busy place, but only to a searching eye. As Jim sprawled on a lounger, he glanced up from his book occasionally to cast a lazy look around, drinking it all in, and then smoothly returned to his spot on the page when he had all the information he needed.

There were bartenders and lifeguards, of course, tucked in under the shaded areas as they served the other guests or watched on from their seats. Sometimes, though, someone unrelated walked past and disappeared down the side of the building - one that he now knew backed up onto the same area as the casino’s staff door. It hadn’t taken much investigative work to figure that out when he studied the blueprints every day.

Jim made a mental note and moved on, shifting his gaze elsewhere. A waiter brought a tray of drinks to a couple of guests at their seats on the other side of the pool, and as he turned his page, he noticed that the waiter leaned in to speak to the couple a little more privately. They exchanged nods and hushed words, and then the waiter floated away again. It was entirely too reminiscent of the exchanges he’d witnessed the previous night to write off entirely.

Interesting. Maybe that was their way in. At this point, he was torn between simply sneaking into a restricted area or playing the part of the guest looking for a pick-me-up. He wasn’t entirely sure which would be the better route just yet.

As Jim dipped his gaze to his book again, he happened to glance out across the water. Something caught his eye, but this time it wasn’t because he’d picked up on something suspicious.

Bruce was getting out of the pool. Water cascaded down his shoulders as he climbed up the ladder, trailing down the firm muscle of his arms and torso. He swept wet hair back from his face so he could scan the seating around the pool, and when his gaze landed on Jim, he offered him a bright, blinding smile. His swimming trunks were entirely too low on his hips, waterlogged as they were, and Jim snapped his gaze up to his face before he could linger too much and  _ think. _

Jim’s face burned. Warmth had lodged itself firmly in his chest, and it dipped lower as Bruce approached. That dam had finally burst, it seemed, and now there was no stopping the flood of want that he’d been holding back.

It was, quite frankly,  _ unfair _ that Bruce looked that damn good. 

He was  _ also _ a firm believer that Bruce needed to wear only swimming trunks more often. 

Bruce planted a hand on the arm of Jim’s lounger as he leaned down to kiss his cheek. Jim decided to give up on blinking altogether and simply closed his eyes in an attempt to pull himself together, though Bruce definitely wasn’t making it easy. Bruce’s lips drifted up to his ear, and it took him too long to realise that Bruce was speaking.

“... if I wanted to enjoy myself.”

Under the pretence of sharing a quiet moment of affection, Jim pecked Bruce’s jaw in return. “What?”

Bruce drew back a little. He looked thoroughly amused; Jim desperately hoped he hadn’t picked up on just why he was having trouble stringing two thoughts together. “Are you okay there, Jim?”

“I’m fine.” Jim sat up a little straighter and he folded the cover of his book over his thumb to save his place. “What did you say?”

“It sounds like guests can…  _ request _ something other than alcohol.” Bruce scooped up the towel he’d left on the empty lounger next to Jim’s, idly drying himself off so he could take a seat. He draped it over his shoulder as he settled down, just so he could free his hands to nab Jim’s coke.

Jim arched an eyebrow. “Help yourself.”

“I will.” Bruce grinned at him around the straw. “We share everything now, remember?”

“Then you can share some of that wealth by getting me a new drink.” 

“Of course, dear.” Bruce’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he set it down again. Then, still smirking, he leaned forwards to rest his hand on Jim’s bare knee and go right back to murmuring into his ear. Contrary to the thumb rubbing circles against Jim’s skin, Bruce’s voice was low and quick, and it was only that that kept Jim from accidentally falling for the act that wasn’t even for him. “Long story short, that couple we played tennis with also decided to take a dip this afternoon, and we got talking. They confirmed that Paradise sells to guests. You just need to find the right person.”

Jim swallowed.  _ Get it together, Gordon. _ “The right person.”

“Mm. They didn’t say what to look  _ for, _ unfortunately.” Bruce withdrew, resting his forearms over his thighs instead to prop himself up. “Still, I thought it was worth mentioning.”

He could still feel the imprint of Bruce’s palm on his skin. Now, though, Jim couldn’t tell if the lingering sensation was heightened just because Bruce was half naked next to him, or if it was because he was, apparently, very good at getting information out of people smoothly. Somehow, that was  _ hot. _

He was so, so screwed. If this was only the third day, Jim didn’t want to know how fucked he would be by the end of their stay.

“Definitely worth mentioning,” Jim said. He reached over to give Bruce’s wrist an appreciative squeeze. For all of his wandering looks in the past few minutes, it still felt odd to trade little gestures of physical affection; it was nice, if a little strange to push past that hurdle and actually touch Bruce in public even like that. He wasn’t sure how Bruce managed to do it so brazenly. “Thanks, Bruce.”

“Of course. I told you I could help.” Bruce grinned, and then he stood. As he did, he reached up to rub at his wet hair with the end of the towel. “I’ll go get you that new drink. Back in a moment.”

Jim’s gaze lingered on him for a moment too long; Bruce turned, and Jim caught the briefest glimpse of how his swimming trunks hugged his hips before he tore his eyes away. It was unintentional and embarrassing, and the image of it was burned into Jim’s mind. Guiltily, he pushed the thought away, and he forced himself to read the next line on the page.

It was impossible. By the time Bruce returned with two glasses in hand, he hadn’t taken in a single word.

Bruce placed the drinks on the table between them, and then he scooped up his abandoned sunglasses as he sunk down onto the lounger. Jim pointedly didn’t look as Bruce stretched out like a cat, lazy in the warmth of the sun this late in the day, but he saw enough to know he tucked an arm behind his head like a pillow as he looked out across the pool. It was an unbelievably good look on him.

“Done swimming?” Jim asked, thumbing the edge of his page.

“For now,” Bruce hummed. “Easier to look around like this.”

Jim couldn’t fault him for that, but it did make his own job that much harder. It had been easy to forget about Bruce and his own little problem while he was in the water; he’d caught the occasional glance of too much skin as Bruce had swept across the pool with ease, but his job had been front and centre in his mind. Now, with Bruce laid almost bare next to him, positively  _ glowing _ in the afternoon light…

Well. Jim was only human, and Bruce was very attractive.

He stared down at his page, wondering idly if it might catch on fire from the intensity of his stare.

“Mm.” Jim’s gaze flickered up again, though this time, he looked anywhere  _ but _ at Bruce. “You know, I think your friends might’ve been onto something.”

Bruce’s attention snapped to him. When Jim glanced at him, Bruce was already peering at him over the frame of his sunglasses. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jim closed his book once more as he sat up, turning so he could place a hand on Bruce’s calf - briefly, he’d entertained the thought of touching his knee, but that was too bold even for him. He leaned in, ignoring the thudding of his own heartbeat as he leaned in to speak directly into Bruce’s ear, just as Bruce had done to him. “Think about what we saw when we were in the casino. They’re not  _ trying _ to be secretive about it.”

When he withdrew, Bruce’s cheeks were pink. Jim deliberately didn’t think too hard about it; Bruce had probably just had too much sun and not enough sunscreen.

“So…” Bruce cleared his throat. “So that’s our way in?”

“Maybe.” Another trip to the casino could work; they had been bolder there, and it might be easier to pick out which staff would be the dealers. “It’s something to think about.”

Bruce puffed out an amused little laugh as he nudged his sunglasses back into place. “It’s… a lot to think about.”

Jim couldn’t say he disagreed; his gaze lingered on Bruce as he relaxed again, on the dip and swell of muscle - too  _ much _ muscle, really, for a billionaire who worked an office job, even one that worked out as much as Bruce claimed to - and when he did manage to look away, it was a struggle to refocus on his job. 

Certain parts of his brain were trying to be particularly insistent, parts that Jim refused to entertain right now in the public eye. He didn’t plan to entertain them at any time if he could help it, certainly not while he was on this trip and sleeping next to Bruce.

He turned a page, doubling down on pretending to read. Next to him, Bruce stretched leisurely and reached for his drink.

* * *

“We’re making some progress. Crossed a few areas off, circled some others, that kind of thing.”

_ “Anything solid yet?” _

Jim used his shoulder to hold his phone against his ear as he sorted through his notes. “Aside from seeing a waiter give someone something and word-of-mouth, no. Nothing concrete. Just our testimonies.”

Renee sighed through the speaker.  _ “Damn it.” _

“Well, it’s only the third day. If we try things too quick, they’ll just kick us out.”

_ “I know. It’d just be nice to have you home - both of you. Have you seen the news? They’re starting to miss Bruce and all of his public appearances.” _

Jim frowned. He shot a look back at Bruce - he was in the bedroom, similarly engaged on the phone with Alfred - and then shifted back to the messy coffee table. “I haven’t had time to look. I’ve been a little busy.”

_ “Too busy living the billionaire lifestyle,” _ Renee teased. Jim could practically hear her rolling her eyes.  _ “I know, I get it.” _

“I’m not-” Jim cut himself off, sliding his fingers underneath his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Doesn’t matter. How’s Gotham?”

Renee laughed, clearly entertained by his abrupt change in subject, but Jim didn’t call her out on it. Chances were, he would have done the same right back had their positions been reversed.  _ “It’s as busy as ever. You know, Two-Face started sniffing around again last night, or his thugs did anyway. Batman’s put his money on there being a heist of some kind in the next few days.” _

“Wonderful,” Jim sighed. “How is Batman, anyway?”

Jim felt the weight of Bruce’s gaze, but he didn’t meet it. Instead, he started to gather up his work and his notes to put away again before they headed down for dinner. 

_ “As mysterious as ever,” _ Renee said.  _ “I know you always said he’s nice, but I’m actually seeing it now. The guy’s kinda funny.” _

“I told you he was. How’s Robin? He still acting up?”

It felt oddly like checking in on his own family. He knew that the new Robin - not so new these days, though he was still the most recent of the bunch - would resent it if he knew Jim was asking after him, but he felt a certain degree of responsibility for Batman’s sidekicks. He always had, and he figured that he always would, too. It didn’t matter that he was well aware of how thoroughly they could kick his ass if they wanted to; they were still kids, and there was an instinctive desire to protect them. He still felt the same for Barbara when she sneaked out to run around as Batgirl.

He was sure Batman himself had picked up on it, though. He had never seemed to begrudge Jim when he tried to bond with the Robins; if anything, he’d given them space to talk, and a smile had always lingered on his lips as he observed.

Renee chuckled, bringing him back to the present. The press of Bruce’s stare was gone.  _ “Yeah, of course he is. I swear, one of these days he’s gonna take that suit out for a spin by himself. I’d love to be a fly on the wall when Batman finds it missing.” _

“Well, he already took the car once,” Jim reminded her, sending Renee off into peals of laughter all over again.

They said their goodbyes shortly after, Renee still snickering as she hung up, and Jim scooped up his papers to transfer them back to his suitcase. Bruce was already perched on the edge of the bed, his phone in his lap as he scrolled through the news; he didn’t glance up when Jim passed, engrossed as he was in an article from the online  _ Gotham Gazette. _ Silently, Jim promised himself the chance to read up that evening before bed.

“How’s everything back home?” Jim asked. His knees clicked as he crouched next to his suitcase, and he grimaced at the first threads of achiness as they set into his muscles. That bout of tennis was about as much exercise as he could manage for one day. 

“Oh, fine,” Bruce said distractedly. “Chaotic, but fine. What about the GCPD?”

Jim snorted. “The same.”

That pulled a laugh out of Bruce, quiet and fond. Jim’s chest lit up like a Christmas tree, glimmering with warmth before he could even attempt to pull the plug. “I can see that,” Bruce said, nodding down at his phone. “Sounds like it’s been a busy few days.”

“Has been for us  _ and _ the GCPD.” Jim straightened up again, sighing in relief. “Speaking of, do you wanna go get some dinner?”

“Absolutely.” Bruce stood in one smooth motion, slipping his phone back into his pocket. It put him close enough to Jim that he could reach out and touch him, just for a moment. Briefly, Jim was tempted to do just that, to just trail his fingers along Bruce’s arm as he passed.

He shook it off. “Didn’t realise I was keeping you waiting.”

“You weren’t,” Bruce promised, shooting a smile at him over his shoulder. He retrieved his suit from the wardrobe; it was hung up over his still mysteriously locked second suitcase. “But I wouldn’t say no to heading down ASAP.”

“You’ll have to give me twenty just to get all my shit on.” Jim grabbed his clothes, and he turned to make a beeline for the bathroom. “Let me know when it’s safe to come out.”

Really, Jim thought, it wouldn’t be safe even when Bruce was decent, but Bruce didn’t need to know that. 

* * *

Dinner was uneventful and torturous. Bruce looked as good as he always did, smoothly fitting into the atmosphere of the too expensive restaurant like its missing puzzle piece, and Jim was beginning to think that he had a problem on his hands. 

It haunted him all the way back to the room, shadowing him in the private smile Bruce saved just for him, and it lurked in his warm laugh whenever he amused Bruce. 

Jim was just glad to have the first shower. It meant that he could sink into bed while Bruce cleaned up from their evening, and he buried his nose in news articles in an effort to not think about his predicament. If anything would kill his mood, it would be something gritty and mean from back home, a story that would make him long for the simpler times of meeting Batman on a rooftop.

Then again, it was Batman who had brought him here in the first place.

The bathroom door clicked open, and Bruce emerged with his toothbrush still in his mouth. He stepped around the bed to fold up his suit - he was done with that one then; Jim wasn’t at all surprised to realise that Bruce probably had more with him - and then went back to the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth. It was so oddly domestic, right down to the way Bruce had smiled at him with his eyes, and Jim tapped on another article with a little too much force.

When Bruce slipped into bed next to him, he was thoroughly engrossed in reading about the recent developments for the Gotham Fire Department - that was, until he got to the bottom and saw Bruce’s name attached to the list of donations.

_ Damn it. _

Bruce tapped away at his phone next to him for a moment, and then he placed it back on his bedside table with a yawn. “I’m turning in,” he said, rolling onto his side to face Jim. “I’m exhausted.”

Jim made the fatal mistake of looking his way. Already, Bruce looked just as sleepy and soft as he did in the mornings; his hair was in disarray after his shower, swooping across his forehead in a messy stripe. His eyelids drooped just a little, and there was a lazy smile on his lips as Jim met his eyes. 

He was fucked.

“Right behind you,” Jim said, twisting away to put his phone down. His glasses joined it, and then he reached out to switch off the lamp. “Night, Bruce.”

“Goodnight, Jim.” 

He settled into bed, shifting onto his back as he got comfortable. Even this far apart, he could feel the warm impressions Bruce had left on the mattress, and it was that thought that guided him to sleep.


	5. Day 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of bits of housekeeping before we get to the chapter!
> 
> Firstly, someone in the comments brought up a good question that leads to something else I'm planning for this series (thanks, starkind!). This fic is entirely from Jim's perspective, and the second will pick up immediately after the events of this one - however, it will be from Bruce's perspective instead. The third follows after the plot of the second, but Dick is our narrator there. (Far away, I know! But I have both Trouble In Paradise and its sequel written, and it's just the third to go right now.)
> 
> So, basically, all this set up leads me to this: if there are any scenes in all three fics you'd like to see from someone else's perspective, put it in a comment! Just let me know as we go along if you see anything in any chapter. I'm going to be putting together a fic that is just one shots in this universe from other perspectives, and while I have some already listed, please feel free to let me know if there's something in particular you want. (For example, if you wanted to see the casino from Bruce's POV, or their departure from Gotham from Alfred's, or anything you can come up with, let me know!) I haven't started writing it yet, but I probably won't be following a set posting schedule for it like I am for the main fics in the series. Odds are, they'll be posted as I write them.
> 
> Secondly, this leads me onto the comments in general, and why I've turned on moderation for them for now. Every chapter, on every fic I write, I request that those who like incest ships do not interact - they make me incredibly uncomfortable, and I don't want anyone who goes for it anywhere near my content. Despite that, I've had some incest shippers ignore my request and interact anyway, and I've gone through to delete those comments. So, for now, to deter any incest shippers from trying anyway, moderation is on. I hope to turn this off again at some point. 
> 
> If I've ever replied to one of your comments, though, you have nothing to worry about. Please continue to comment as normal if you like! Your comment will be immediately approved as soon as I get to my computer, positive or negative, wordy or short, I don't mind. I'm just happy to see people enjoying my work and I'm excited to chat about it with you guys. And, if you're a new commenter, you're also welcome too, of course!
> 
> My stance on incest shippers remains unchanged, though. _Do not interact if you ship any incest pairings._ Your comment will not be approved.

Jim woke to the surprising sound of rain.

He propped himself up on one elbow, blinking blearily as he reached for his glasses. Once they were on, the window came into better focus, and beyond the safety of their room he saw grey skies and greyer clouds, buried behind the sheets of rain hammering against the walls of Paradise. Distantly, thunder rumbled, threatening a storm. It reminded him of home.

Bruce rolled over, grumbling into his pillow. Jim jumped when Bruce’s calf brushed against his under the covers.

“It’s raining,” he said helpfully.

Bruce grunted. 

Jim ducked his head as he smiled. If he was going to allow himself even the slightest bit of room to react to the fluttery feeling in his chest, he wasn’t going to look Bruce in the eye while he did. 

Eventually, he did shift onto his back again. Bruce blinked at him from the depths of the sheets, his face half buried into his pillow. The covers were tugged right up to his shoulders as he stayed firmly burrowed into his nest. He didn’t seem fully awake yet, but the longer Jim held back his giggles, the more aware Bruce became, until he shot Jim a playful frown. “Are you laughing at me?”

“No,” Jim snickered. 

Bruce pushed himself up onto his forearms. A stubborn lock of hair stayed plastered to his forehead. “You  _ are _ laughing at me.”

“I’m not!”

“You are.” Bruce grinned as he hauled himself upright to stretch, raising his arms high over his head as he hummed. “And for that, I’m taking the first shower while you figure out what to investigate today.”

He slipped out of bed, ruffling a hand through his hair as he straightened up. Jim indulged the bubble in his chest as he really did laugh this time, the sound echoing from somewhere deep in his lungs. It felt good to let go, even if it sent a bolt of electricity through him when Bruce shot him a smile over his shoulder. 

“And you can order breakfast,” Bruce added, pausing in the doorway. “I’ll have my usual.”

“Sure thing,  _ dear.” _

Bruce rolled his eyes fondly and closed the door behind himself. Jim lingered in bed for just a moment, savouring the humour still bubbling through his veins, and then he finally got up to organise their food.

It didn’t arrive until after they’d traded places, and Jim emerged from his shower with still damp hair drooping into his eyes no matter how hard he tried combing it out of the way. Belatedly, he realised he should have gone for a trim before leaving Gotham. Bruce looked immaculate, of course, even so early in the morning; it was a ridiculous contrast from the soft, sleepy man who had been in the bed just an hour ago, but he pulled it off with ease. 

“I was thinking,” Bruce said, drumming his fingers on his knee.

“Dangerous,” Jim said. He dropped onto the couch, greedily reaching for his breakfast.

Bruce laughed quietly against the rim of his coffee mug. “I know. But since it’s raining, the interior areas are likely to be packed. Staff will be busy,  _ and _ they’ll also want to make sure guests are staying happy, right?”

Jim paused mid chew, considering him. Clearly, he was going somewhere with this. “Yeah?”

“I think we should try booking one of the spa packages.” Bruce nodded towards the Paradise leaflet they’d left on the coffee table. “One that’s more than just the hot tub. They’ll want to keep us happy, so maybe they’ll slip. We might be able to find our in.”

The spark of an idea began to form in Jim’s head, glimmering as it settled into something more concrete. “The bar will be busy tonight,” he said. “We could probably get away with slipping in through that door.”

Something like pride glittered in Bruce’s eyes. It inflated that bubble in Jim’s chest all over again. “Exactly. It’s a perfect day to try something a little more  _ daring.” _

Bruce’s smirk was familiar. It gave Jim the impression of late nights and quiet laughter, murmured plans in the Gotham rain. It was odd that it should remind him of Batman, but then again, the two did work together; Jim supposed that a certain level of similarity should be expected from the man who supplied Batman with his tech. Part of him wondered if people looked at him side by side with Batman and saw the same. 

Jim set down his fork with a grin. “Then let’s be daring.”

* * *

_ Daring _ led Jim to a massage table, where he settled facedown while all the tension was kneaded out of his shoulders. It was surprisingly effective on the years of knots there, and for a short time, he forgot all about the mission; he just melted under the hands on his back, and he drifted as he thought about the case. 

Distantly, he was aware of Bruce on a similar table to his left, but they didn’t talk as they waited out the massage. In fact, Jim tried to keep his thoughts away from him as much as possible for the time being; he was painfully aware of how undressed they were, and he wanted to grant Bruce some privacy instead of ogling the skin that wasn’t covered by a towel. Regardless, it didn’t stop him from hearing Bruce’s quiet, pleased sighs at certain presses from his massage therapist, and Jim desperately hoped those sounds wouldn’t burn themselves into his brain.

As soon as they were done, all of that tension came creeping right back. They weren’t even  _ done _ here at the spa.

Jim carefully sat up, holding his towel around his waist. He desperately sought a spot he could look at that would give Bruce plenty of room to do the same, while also not obviously looking away from the man who was supposed to be his husband. He landed on one of the massage therapists as the other stepped outside.

The man gave him a polite smile. “Would you gentlemen like a break before your trip to the sauna? Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”

Jim exchanged a glance with Bruce, who was, thankfully, covered up just enough. He tucked the edge of his towel in to secure it, and then offered Jim a shrug. “Sure. What’s on the menu?”

“Or,” Jim said slowly, “off of it.”

A flicker of something raced across Bruce’s face, there and gone before Jim could fully read it. Before he smoothed out his features fully, though, he saw something like quiet triumph.

The therapist pretended not to notice. “We have water available, of course. We would recommend a glass or two before heading into the sauna. There is also a limited range of alcoholic drinks available which we can have prepared for you afterwards.”

Nothing. The therapist didn’t even crack.

“Water, please,” Jim said, nodding towards Bruce, “for both of us.” 

“If you’d like to wait here, sirs, I’ll be right back with it.” 

The therapist whisked out the door, leaving the two of them alone. Bruce’s lips were set in a flat line, one that was oddly reminiscent of  _ something _ that Jim couldn’t really place, and as soon as the door clicked shut, he said, “Nice try.”

Jim snorted, leaning back to prop himself up on his hands. He ignored the low stir of interest in his stomach at the sight of Bruce opposite him, comfortable as he perched half naked on the edge of his table, and he turned his thoughts back to much more practical matters instead. “Thought it’d be worth a shot. I’m not as smooth as you, though.”

Bruce cracked a smile. “What, you think I could’ve flirted it out of him?”

“Well, he might’ve been a little more receptive to someone slightly younger and more handsome,” Jim shot back with a lazy grin. 

Bruce laughed, head tipped back just a little bit, and Jim bit the inside of his cheek. It felt terrifyingly good to be the one to make Bruce laugh.

The therapist returned with two glasses of water, handing them out with a polite nod. He gestured for them to follow, and as Bruce fell into step beside Jim, he tangled the fingers of their free hands together naturally. Quite frankly, Jim didn’t know how he expected to make it through the day now that he’d accepted where his heart was.

They paused in a corridor as a cart passed, momentarily stalling them thanks to the smaller space. Jim followed it with his eyes curiously; it was covered with a white sheet, but he could pick out the boxy shape of several somethings underneath. 

Bruce squeezed his fingers a little harder than necessary, and he wiggled his own in silent acknowledgement. 

As they were directed down the hallway to the sauna showers, Jim tried to visualise the blueprints in his mind’s eye, just so he could firmly press the location into his memory for later. There was certainly something coming through the spa, despite the therapist ignoring his request.

Maybe he just hadn’t asked the right person.

They handed over their empty glasses, and they briefly separated to shower before heading in. Jim was glad for the respite, even if it wasn’t for very long; he needed a little bit of time to prepare himself for the next fifteen minutes if he was going to make it through sitting next to a mostly naked Bruce.

The sauna itself wasn’t busy when they made their way inside. Warmth prickled across Jim’s skin instantly, soothed only when he and Bruce took a seat in the corner, opposite the only other couple. They were too busy talking softly between themselves to notice them, much to Jim’s relief; he sat down with a sigh, and he tried not to think about how close his and Bruce’s bare knees were.

He closed his eyes. He really needed to get it together already.

It was a few minutes before he moved; he needed those precious few moments to summon both the energy and the courage to place his hand on Bruce’s knee, to lean in closer just like the other couple, as if they were engaging in a private conversation. He felt Bruce lock up under his palm - he didn’t need to look him in the eye to know how surprised he was at the touch - but it was gone again within seconds, smoothed away as if he’d never jumped in the first place.

Still, as Jim inclined his head towards Bruce’s, he could feel  _ some _ small amount of tension under his hand. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

It was only then that he became aware of how close their faces were; any closer, and their lips would be brushing. Bruce stared back at him, waiting patiently, and somehow his eyes seemed even more piercingly blue than usual. It sent a shock of  _ something _ down Jim’s spine, something he desperately didn’t want to name right now -  _ couldn’t _ name even if he tried, not when sweat was already rolling down his shoulderblades.

“What did you make of the cart?” he murmured.

Bruce’s hand came to rest just above his knee, mirroring him. The unnamed thing pulsed in the depths of his stomach.

“Seemed odd.” Bruce spoke so quietly that it might as well have been a whisper. That was just fine by Jim; he wasn’t sure that he could summon anything louder anyway, even if they had been alone.

He swallowed hard. “Pretty sure I know which door it was.”

“Me, too.”

“Well, between the two of us, we should be able to figure it out.”

Bruce chuckled. Jim could almost feel the sound buzz against his cheek with how close they were. It fizzled out across his skin, turning into a slight shiver the further it spread. He only barely stopped himself from looking down at Bruce’s lips; he knew that if he did, what he really wanted would be written all over his face, and then the façade would shatter.

Well, that was assuming it hadn’t shattered already. Jim felt like  _ he _ had. What little sense he’d had when he’d entered the sauna had scattered to the four corners of the Earth, impossible to recollect when he now knew how it felt to have Bruce so close, so warm at his side, with his fingers curved against the shape of Jim’s lower thigh.

He swallowed hard.

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

A smile flickered at the corner of Bruce’s lips. Jim snapped his gaze back up to his eyes. “Me, too.”

Jim withdrew his hand, slow even though it felt like he’d been burned. His skin certainly prickled like it, familiar in the way it tingled as it healed. A different kind of heat flickered deeper beneath it - it was too hot in the sauna already to entertain it further, too humid to fan the flames - but Jim knew exactly what it meant and what fuel it needed. 

Bruce’s gaze still lingered on him, heavy and hot, as Jim closed his eyes. It was a long few seconds before he felt it drift away.

* * *

“Jim.”

“Bruce?”

He looked up to see an unusually judgemental expression on Bruce’s face. His eyebrows vanished into his hairline as he stared at the jeans on his legs. “Please don’t tell me you’re serious about wearing them tonight.”

Jim frowned at him. Admittedly, Bruce did look nice right now - he wasn’t in a suit, but he had the black jacket and slacks, and his shirt was baby blue instead of the usual white - but, quite frankly, Jim didn’t see the point. “What’s wrong with jeans? We’re going to the  _ bar, _ it’s not like we’re going to the fancy restaurant.”

“And people will still be looking.” 

Sighing, Jim turned to head back into the bedroom. “Alright. What should I wear?”

“Slacks,” Bruce said immediately. Distantly he added, “Your shirt is fine, though.”

Jim glanced down at his front - he had already slung on a short sleeved button-up - and grumbled as he folded his jeans and tucked them back into his suitcase. “I didn’t know rich people were so damn fussy.”

Bruce laughed. “Of course rich people are fussy. They might not care after enough alcohol, but if we’re going to be slipping by…”

“Alright, alright.” Jim stepped into his slacks and slipped his belt through the loops, dressing quickly so he could rejoin Bruce. 

“Better,” Bruce said once he emerged, shooting him a playful grin. 

“First thing I’m gonna do when we get out of here is wear something more comfortable,” Jim grumbled, scooping his phone and wallet from the table. Bruce snickered again, and Jim felt some of his annoyance fade, replaced by a little smile of his own.

The bar was already crowded when they arrived; evidently, the rain had driven people here in droves, seeking out the comfort of a good drink and a fun atmosphere. Jim had, admittedly, not expected such a drunken party from the rich and elite kinds of people who visited Paradise, but here the evidence was in front of him, full of alcohol and dancing to the music pumping through the speakers. 

It was  _ infectious.  _

Jim had seen many a party in his lifetime - more because he’d busted them than attended - but only now did he see the appeal. Maybe it had something to do with the way Bruce’s arm settled across his shoulders, or perhaps the fan of his breath against his ear as he leaned in to say, “I’ll get us some drinks.”

He nodded on autopilot, and weaved through the crowd with Bruce. 

At least the door would be hidden. This was the perfect chance to try sneaking in, and Jim wondered if they might be lucky enough to witness something exchanging hands, too. It’d make things a lot easier if it was the case.

Bruce pressed a bottle into his hand - beer, probably the tamest they had available tonight - and they paused for a moment in their safe bubble near the bar to take a sip. 

Jim inclined his head towards him, and Bruce turned his head to better hear him. “Thought this was a bar, not a nightclub.”

“I guess this is just their backup plan,” Bruce said, shrugging. Jim watched as he glanced over the heads of the crowd, searching, and then they stopped when they landed on the door in the corner. It was trapped behind a wall of people, and even if they made it there, it wouldn’t be a good idea to go for it right away. “If the weather’s bad, they bring the party here.”

“Mm.” Jim’s hum was swallowed up by the music instantly, gone in the next throb of bass. It was such a bizarre shift from how Paradise usually portrayed itself with poise and glamour, shocking in how  _ normal _ it was.

And, well, if it was normal, then Jim had a pretty good idea for getting over to the door.

He considered Bruce in the low light, watching him as he watched the guests, and he tried not to think about how attractive he was, how much of a mistake this was, as he said, “Do you wanna dance?”

Bruce’s gaze snapped back to him.

For a long moment, Bruce just stared, his bottle halfway to his lips as he pieced together the implication in Jim’s words. A smile slowly formed on his face, and he moved a little closer, placing a hand on Jim’s hip to draw him in. He desperately tried to remember that this was all for show.

“Do you even know how to dance, Jim?” he teased.

“Not at all,” Jim laughed. “I figured you probably do, though.”

Bruce’s smile was sharp,  _ intoxicating. _ “I think I can manage for the both of us.” 

They left their drinks on the bar, and Bruce tugged him out onto the floor by the wrist. It was in the direction of the mysterious door, Jim’s brain helpfully reminded him, but he almost forgot about it entirely the second that Bruce’s hands landed on his hips. 

They were close, much too close. If Jim inclined his head, their lips would be brushing; Bruce swayed with ease, hips rolling to the rhythm of the music, and Jim fought to keep himself on task. It was hard when Bruce pressed against him so comfortably - anything below the belt was respectfully separated, he noticed, not that it helped much - and he nosed behind Jim’s ear in what was probably an effort to keep an eye out, but Jim was a weak, weak man, and he closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to steady himself. It wouldn’t do to get a boner over just a little dancing.

Bruce’s breath touched the shell of his ear. A shiver ran down Jim’s spine. “Trust me?” he murmured.

It wasn’t even a question. He nodded.

Rough lips pressed against his jaw, and Bruce’s hands became much more insistent on his sides. Jim sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden spike of arousal that shot through his blood, pulsing hot in his veins as Bruce urged him backwards, parting the crowd like they were nothing-

And then they tumbled through the door. Bruce neatly closed it behind them, and when their eyes met, he smiled sheepishly. “I’m… I’m sorry if that was too much. I thought it’d be the easiest way to get us in, to pretend like…” He trailed off, apparently leaving it up to Jim’s imagination, which was far, far too kind of Bruce.

“It’s fine,” Jim promised, ignoring the flush on his cheeks. He could still feel the ghost of Bruce’s mouth on his skin. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s look around.”

The door opened up onto a thin corridor, one that Jim knew instantly wasn’t on the blueprints. There were a couple of doors before them, and then a long stretch of blank wall before the corridor made a sharp corner. Jim did the maths in his head, and he was pretty sure that it headed in the direction of the casino, and he wondered if it maybe connected to that  _ second _ mysterious door. 

“This must be how they transport their shit around the building,” he murmured, rubbing a thumb across his chin. God, he couldn’t shake the thought of Bruce’s hands on him. He was pretty sure his blush was permanently painted on. “The storage room must be around here somewhere. It’d make sense.”

“It’d be easier for them,” Bruce agreed. He tried one of the doorknobs, but it was firmly locked. “Damn it.”

Jim snorted. “Nice try.”

They meandered down the corridor, watching for any obvious security cameras - none, strangely enough - and trying the few doors as they went. Most, if not all, were locked, but they did peer into a couple. They were dark, silent, and when Bruce used his phone torch to try and pick out what was inside, all Jim could surmise was that it was storage for more usual things: drinks, new sheets, equipment. Nothing interesting.

“There’s gotta be something,” Jim muttered, closing the door with a sigh. They were reaching the end of the corridor, with only two left to go. One was labelled ‘CASINO’, so that one was out. By now, his arousal had thankfully faded somewhat, lowering to a simmer that didn’t demand his full attention. 

“Maybe…” Bruce pressed his palm against the unnamed one, and it didn’t budge. “I’m guessing they store it more securely than we gave them credit for.”

“Mm.” Jim turned on his heel, starting back down the corridor. He took it slow, wandering at an easy pace as he frowned. “We should’ve brought lockpicks or something.”

Bruce fell into step beside him with a sigh. “It’s a shame it’s not electronic. I could’ve hacked it.”

Jim shot him a look. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that, Bruce.”

“Batman tech,” Bruce reminded him, grinning. “Not for me, of course, but our friend lends me some things from time to time.”

“Again, gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Bruce laughed. “So you’ll let things slide for Batman but not for me?”

As they turned the corner, the door for the bar rattled. Jim grabbed Bruce’s arm and yanked him back behind the corner to buy themselves a little more time.

Hiding in one of the unlocked store rooms was a recipe for disaster if they were caught; Jim was pretty sure that would be a bigger offence than simply being discovered in the corridor. They were too far to make it to the casino exit without sprinting, which would certainly attract the attention of whoever had opened that damn door now. Jim could hear distant footsteps, quick and businesslike.

Bruce caught his wrist. “Trust me?” he whispered, just like he had on the dancefloor.

He waited for Jim’s nod, and then he pressed him back against the wall. His hands quickly ruffled through his own hair to leave it in a handsome mess, and then he framed his palms on Jim’s cheeks as he leaned in-

To  _ pretend  _ to kiss him. He left a centimetre of space between his lips and Jim’s, polite even when he was acting like they were in the middle of a thorough makeout session.

It was a good fake, Jim thought, but not a fantastic one. His resolve snapped.

He knocked Bruce’s hands gently out of the way as he cupped his jaw, tugging him in to close that gap. Bruce made a quiet, strangled noise against his mouth, almost a  _ whine _ as they collided, and he fit his body against Jim’s from head to toe. A hand planted itself on Jim’s shoulder, and the other trailed down to his hip, clumsily untucking his shirt so he could get underneath it. He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose as Bruce’s fingertips traced across his bare skin.

Jim only remembered that it was supposed to be fake when he felt the pleasantly soft press of Bruce’s packer against his dick. He shivered as a spark of much too real pleasure raced across his skin, and he dropped his hands to Bruce’s sides to gently put the tiniest bit of space between them.

Bruce’s breath puffed out against his lips in another quiet, wanting noise as he realised exactly _why_ Jim moved them apart, and Jim very nearly pulled him right back in.

“I- Excuse me!”

Bruce tore his lips away from Jim’s, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Jim slumped back against the wall as he panted, his fingers flexing on Bruce’s sides as he fought to separate the act from the physical in his mind; hopefully, Bruce could spin a good enough story, because Jim wasn’t sure that he could manage words at all.

“Sorry,” Bruce said with an uncharacteristic giggle. “We just got a little…  _ carried away. _ Is this not the way to the rooms?”

“No, sir.” Jim forced his eyes open, and he turned to see an attendant looking rather red in the face. “This is a staff only area. I need you two to return to the public space immediately.”

Jim sucked in a deep breath, forcing a smile to his face. “Sorry,” he repeated, anchoring himself on Bruce’s shoulder to feign a drunken, clumsy lean. “We’ll, uh, we’ll just get going.”

Bruce looped his arm around his middle as they stumbled down the corridor, past the attendant and back into the bar. He released Jim once they were safely wrapped up in the crowd again, pausing outside the door - which, Jim assumed, was probably now locked - to say, “Anything else you wanna do while we’re here?”

It was easy to think of several things while he was still half hard, but Jim swallowed and shook his head. “No, I’m good. Let’s get out of here before staff get too curious about us.”

Bruce took him by the hand then, leading him back through the swell of people and out to the relative freedom of the rest of the resort. They didn’t speak until they were back in their room, safely behind their own closed door, and even then Jim struggled to find the right words. Hell, he didn’t even know  _ what  _ to say. 

He leaned back against the wall, hoping that he didn’t look too flustered right now. Bruce settled in beside him, leaving a respectable amount of space between their elbows. “Sorry about the kiss,” Jim offered.

“There’s nothing to apologise for,” Bruce chuckled. He let his head drop back against the wall with a gentle thump. “We needed cover.”

Jim shoved his hands into his pockets with a heavy exhale. “Yeah.” 

He waited for a moment longer, sure that Bruce wanted to say something, but no words came. There was still a delicate pink flush on Bruce’s cheeks, and Jim wondered if he was just as affected.

“I’m gonna…” He paused, jerking a thumb towards the bathroom. “I’m gonna go shower.” 

“I’ll see if I can get us some more towels,” Bruce agreed with a quick, jerky nod. It was so unlike him to be so…  _ not smooth. _ The more Jim thought about it, the more Bruce seemed to be acting off.

Before Bruce could go too far, Jim reached out to lightly touch his shoulder. “Hey. I really am sorry, if it’s bothering you. We can always go easier on physical stuff, or just call the whole thing-”

“Jim.” Bruce smiled kindly at him. He was relieved to see that it reached his eyes, and it was just as real and genuine as any other smile he’d given him before; for a moment, Jim had feared that it would be one of those fake, blanks ones he gave the people who recognised him for the celebrity he was. “It’s not bothering me, I promise. I’m fine to continue if you are.”

His heart did little flips in his chest. “I’m good.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.” Bruce patted his shoulder gently. “Go have your shower. I’m gonna go and check in on the kids, find some towels. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He whisked out the door, and it was only when he was gone that he realised how damn obvious he’d been. Bruce was  _ deliberately _ giving him space here for a good reason, and Jim gritted his teeth through the first heavy wave of embarrassment as he trooped through to the bedroom, grabbed his pyjamas, and locked himself in the bathroom.

The first blast of water was too cold, but that was just fine by Jim. He stood under the spray, shivering a little as goosebumps raced across his skin, grateful for the way it finally began to cool him down. He was determined to not give his semi any attention, and as he reached for his soap, he lathered up clinically, methodically, to wash the grime of the day off in such a way that he managed to touch his own skin as little as possible.

Eventually, the lingering simmer of arousal waned enough that he felt marginally more presentable, and he ignored the memory of Bruce’s lips on his own just so he didn’t throw gasoline back onto the fire.

Bruce offered him a normal, warm smile when he stepped out of the bathroom, and it was only that that made Jim relax. “All yours,” he said, jerking a thumb back over his shoulder.

“Thanks.” Bruce patted his shoulder fondly as he passed. “I ordered food, I figured you’d be hungry since we skipped dinner. Go ahead and get started without me, I won’t be long.”

The door closed. Jim dumped his clothes on top of his suitcase to sort tomorrow, and then slumped onto the couch with a sigh to pick at his late dinner. Of course Bruce was perfect enough to get him something to eat after he’d given him enough material to haunt his every waking moment.

Jim rubbed a tired hand across his face. He was definitely, most certainly, fucked.


	6. Day 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No big note at the start of this chapter! Just a reminder that if there's any scenes you want to see with an alternative POV, pop it in a comment. I've got one particular one in mind for this chapter already, hee hee!
> 
> If you're on tumblr, you can find me @capedcommissioner!

It wasn’t unusual to wake up touching some part of Bruce. Jim had long since accepted this as part of the deal when sharing a bed with Bruce; he’d come to with their feet entwined one morning, and another had found them with Jim facedown in the pillows and his arm tossed across Bruce’s chest. He was warm and the AC was good, so more often than not, they were brushing somehow.

Spooning was new, though.

Bruce was a warm pillar against his back, and the arm around his middle kept him hugged close enough that he could feel Bruce’s breath on the back of his neck. It was deep and slow, so Jim was sure that he was still asleep, thankfully. 

Carefully, he shifted. There was no denying it: he was hard. 

He didn’t plan on doing anything about it, though. His alarm hadn’t gone off yet - wouldn’t for a while - and Jim wanted all the rest he could get. Maybe, if he was lucky, it would go away on its own.

And then Bruce moved. 

It was a subtle shift, one that Jim probably wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t so busy counting sheep in a desperate attempt to doze off again. Bruce moved closer, his hips pressing against Jim’s ass, and he sighed against his shoulder in a relaxed, _relieved_ way, one that sent heat prickling across Jim’s skin-

Enough was enough. Carefully, delicately, he extricated himself from Bruce’s grip - he made a quiet noise at the slight disturbance, but settled again soon after - and he grabbed a fresh change of clothes before tiptoeing into the bathroom. He stripped, leaving his pyjamas - well, his sweats and a t-shirt - in a pile on the floor, and climbed back under the freezing cold water.

Jim grunted as the spray hit him, and he stood there for a long moment, arms hugged around himself, as he waited for his body to acclimate to the temperature. It was, quite frankly, miserable, but he hoped that the cold would shock him out of the desire to just crawl back into bed next to Bruce.

It didn’t. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the tiled wall, turning his thoughts sluggishly towards the case.

Really, it would be a good idea to keep their heads down for a day. No doubt the staff involved in Black Mask’s operation would be aware of two patrons stumbling too close to something so important, and they’d probably be keeping an eye out for Bruce and Jim now to make sure they were who they said they were. They wouldn’t be able to get away with anything so daring right now, that was for sure.

The thought of the previous night drew Jim back. He thought of Bruce pressing him against the wall, easy and comfortable, and how good it had felt to kiss him after days of wanting.

Jim took a long, steadying breath. 

The weather seemed better from what Jim had seen from a quick glance out of the bedroom window, so maybe their best shot was another pool stakeout. There was plenty of foot traffic from both staff and guests, which left more than enough opportunity for _someone_ to fuck up somewhere along the line. If it came to it, Jim supposed they could talk to another patron and see if they’d be willing to help them out. It would move them one step closer to getting their hands on some real evidence.

And the pool meant that they could lounge in the sun again, not quite fully dressed. Maybe Bruce would take another dip in the water.

Jim bit his lip hard. 

_Fuck it._

He cranked the water back up to hot again. One final shiver raced across his skin as the warmth chased away the lingering cold, waking up the ends of his nerves again as he basked like a cat in the sun. Briefly, Jim tipped his head back to let it wash over his face, puffing out a breath when droplets lingered on his moustache.

The simple act of accepting that he was going to jerk off already lifted a weight from his shoulders. It wasn’t like he had an active sex life back in Gotham anyway, but getting off was a nice stress relief when he had the time for it, and he hadn’t even _considered_ it since arriving at Paradise until now. Usually, he preferred it at the end of his day rather than the start, but he knew that this was the best chance he was going to get.

Jim eased a hand down his hip to his thigh, and then across to his still half hard dick. He curled his fingers around his length for a couple of slow, indulgent tugs, and he sighed heavily, relieved. Just that light touch had his toes curling against the floor as warmth trickled out into his limbs, unfurling from its tight knot in his stomach. It was a shame that he didn’t have any lube on hand, and while Jim figured he didn’t have _a lot_ of time for this, he wasn’t going to rush himself.

He planted his free arm on the wall, using it to prop himself up as he closed his eyes. For those first few blissful moments, he didn’t think about much beyond the familiar touch of his own palm, his own thumb circling around the head. The water pounded against his back, forcing the hairs on the back of his neck back down again.

Carefully, Jim allowed his thoughts to drift. 

He started off with the few snatches of porn he could remember, but it wasn’t quite doing it, so he moved on. He shifted instead to his own experience, drawing on that as he gently squeezed the base of his dick, only to put that aside too when it was tinged with guilt over thinking about long dead relationships.

In the end, Jim settled on his imagination. He pictured a generically handsome man, someone muscled and confident with his hands, and he moved from thought to thought with ease, following whatever the thread of his arousal latched onto the most. It was easy, almost boring in its familiarity, but it was working; Jim could hear his pulse pounding in his ears as he stroked himself, his grip just a touch tighter as he pressed his forehead against his arm and bit back a low groan.

He imagined the man on his knees in front of him, his hands tracing up his thighs in a slow tease. In his mind’s eye, he circled his hand around Jim’s cock and kissed the head, and he mirrored the motions as best he could with his own hand - fingers pausing to steady himself, his thumb pressing against the tip to simulate the kiss. The man had light eyes and a lighter laugh, dark hair that felt silky and soft between Jim’s fingers-

A bolt of heat snapped through him like lightning, zipping from his skull to his toes in an instant. 

The fantasy shifted, turning into Jim on _his_ knees in front of Bruce. They were at the edge of the bed in just the next room, Bruce perched there as he ran his fingers through Jim’s hair. As he imagined licking a stripe up the underside of Bruce’s cock, Jim’s hand worked quicker over his length, and his breaths shortened into pants. 

Even now, it felt inevitable, too soon, but he couldn’t stop the way his imagination snowballed from there, twisting instead to draw on the way Bruce had pressed him against the wall; Jim could _feel_ the way Bruce might pin him to a bed, work his way down his throat with sharp teeth and an equally sharp smile, an amused chuckle in his throat as he descended. He wanted to do the same _back_ to Bruce, find all the right places to touch, and discover which of those made him gasp and moan. 

The information that he’d accidentally gathered about Bruce over the past few days led him to a vivid picture of him, his head tossed back against the pillows as he called Jim’s name.

He came with a silent groan, one that was more of an exhale through his nose than a sound, and he kept his face buried in the crook of his own elbow as his hand slowed. Jim lingered, still trailing his fingers along his cock to draw out all the little shivery aftershocks, and he only really let go when he’d started to soften and his shoulders drooped. Blindly, he held out his palm under the water, letting it wash away the evidence on his fingers.

Silently, he wondered how he was supposed to go back out there and face Bruce now. He decided that it was a problem for a future version of himself, the one he was due to meet in twenty minutes.

Jim took his time afterwards, soaping up much more freely now that he wasn’t under the threat of his own erection. The warm water made a nice change from the night before, too; he hadn’t been a fan of crawling into bed with half of his toes numb from the cold.

When he was done, he dried slowly and thoroughly, and then slung his towel around his hips as he brushed his teeth. Then, for good measure, he shaved and neatened up his moustache a little. If there was an excuse to stay in the relative safety of the bathroom for a minute longer, Jim damn well found it, and he didn’t feel the tiniest bit guilty about it.

Eventually, though, he ran out of reasons. He was clean, dressed, and relaxed, and he let himself out into the bedroom once more.

Bruce was awake. 

He was still in bed, slumped low under the covers with his phone in his hand. His hair was, predictably, all over the place, and there were lines on his face from the crease of his pillow. 

There was, Jim realised, also a flush on his cheeks.

For a moment, he wondered if Bruce had heard him, but he quickly shot that thought down before it could take root and embarrass him. It couldn’t be that, not when Bruce met his eyes with a smile - and then his blush returned, just a little stronger than before, when Jim said, “Morning, Bruce.”

And _oh,_ it clicked. In that one simple moment, the way Bruce’s face reddened at the sound of Jim saying his name, he understood.

He wasn’t the only one who’d had an interesting morning.

“So,” Jim said, clearing his throat and crossing the room, “I figured we could take it easy today. We can’t be too obvious after we got caught yesterday, so I didn’t wanna do anything that would draw too much attention.”

There was a rustle behind him. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that Bruce had sat up to prop himself back against the pillows. “Sounds good to me. What did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking we could do some more pool recon.” Jim tugged his trunks out of his suitcase. He’d stored them away after letting them dry from their previous visit, not that he’d done much swimming the first time around. “You know, sunbathe, chat. The usual.”

“I’ll get my trunks.” Bruce tossed back the covers to climb out of bed, and Jim quickly looked away to grant him some privacy. “I’m just gonna shower first, though.”

Jim waved a hand. “Take your time. I’ll order us some breakfast.”

Bruce murmured his thanks, and then shut himself in the bathroom. Jim heard the water start a few seconds later.

The thought of what Bruce had been doing while he was in the shower consumed Jim’s mind. He wasn’t sure what it meant, and he imagined that that was what it felt like to obsess over every interaction with a crush. Was it just Bruce taking advantage of a chance to indulge? Or was he just as wrapped up in thoughts of the kiss as Jim?

Had he _thought_ of Jim? Was that the thing he’d kept in mind, just like Jim had?

Jim dropped the menu back onto the coffee table just so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. Very, very carefully, he forced himself to stop circling the topic, at least for now. There was nothing to be gained by chasing his own tail; he knew he’d only make things worse for himself in the long run when it turned out that Bruce wasn’t actually interested at all, and he’d only taken the chance to rub a quick one out. Jim knew that he didn’t compare to Bruce’s usual conquests, and he had never pretended to.

Well, if he discounted the whole fake marriage, he hadn’t pretended to. He didn’t think that that counted, not in this context.

Regardless, he knew that he wasn’t Bruce’s type. Bruce was very much his, but that didn’t matter.

* * *

Briefly, Jim considered the pool. He stared at the cool, inviting water as it sparkled in the sunlight, barely moving even with guests slicing their way through it during their lazy laps. This late in the day, it wasn’t quite as busy, which suited Jim just fine; there were plenty of loungers available, and as he turned, he found that Bruce had already selected two under the shade of an umbrella.

“I’ll get us something to drink,” Jim said, laying down his book on the little round table. “What’re you having?”

Bruce stretched out on a lounger, sighing at the first touch of sun on the tips of his toes. He looked unreasonably good like that, with his unbuttoned shirt and his sunglasses down over his eyes. When he tilted his head to look at Jim, a warm smile spread across his lips, breaking like the first hint of dawn. “Whatever you’re having, Jim.”

He was going to be the death of him. Jim nodded, squeezed his outstretched hand fondly, and then wandered over to the bar.

A couple of guests occupied the stools, leaning against the bar itself as they chatted and sipped at their cocktails. They paid Jim no mind as he stood at the other end to order, and even when he eavesdropped a little, he didn’t pick up on anything interesting. 

It was like Paradise had tightened up further, wrapping itself protectively around its secrets. It made Jim wonder just how they’d managed to put together a customer base for Black Mask’s product in the first place; they couldn’t exactly sell their drugs to the resort’s patrons if they weren’t willing to advertise, but Jim had seen it change hands himself. 

Really, he knew that that was probably enough to call the GCPD in on - them and the nearest local department, anyway - but he wanted a little more proof than just _seeing._

“Your drinks, sir,” the bartender said with a polite smile. Jim thanked her as he scooped up the glasses, and then he made his way back over to Bruce.

That same sunny smile was on his face as he reached up to take his coke. “Thanks, Jim,” he said cheerfully, sitting up to take a sip. Even when he set his glass down on the table, that fond look lingered on his face, glowing with warmth and what seemed like genuine affection. It was enough to make Jim’s heart flutter against his ribs, just for a moment, before it settled again. 

Jim shrugged, perching on the side of his lounger. “I figured I owed you for last time.”

Bruce laughed and tipped his head back against the seat. “You don’t owe me. I won’t say no to a drink, though.”

He seemed… freer somehow. It was like something had unlocked in Bruce, opening up another layer that Jim hadn’t even noticed until it was gone. If pressed, he wasn’t even sure he could pinpoint it. Up until now, they’d been relaxed and friendly, ready to play their parts, but now it didn’t feel quite like he’d put on a costume before stepping into the public eye; Jim was frighteningly comfortable with casually touching Bruce now, from holding his hand to kissing his cheek when it was appropriate. 

Or maybe it was just wishful thinking. Maybe, because he’d accepted the fact that he had a little crush, Jim was looking for evidence that wasn’t there, and if he couldn’t find it, he was accidentally creating it out of small, inconsequential things. 

Then again, there was no mistaking the soft way Bruce looked at him. It began in his crooked smile, and ended in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners under his sunglasses.

Something had shifted between them. It was both wonderful and terrifying.

It also begged a very simple question: what would happen once they went back out into the real world? 

Inside Paradise, they were just Jim and Bruce. If nothing else, they were easily friends by now; Jim enjoyed his company, and he would gladly put aside his feelings just to sit and chat with him. Things were comfortable with Bruce in a way that Jim couldn’t quite describe, but it was similar to the way he clicked so well with Batman. Simply put, they just worked well together, bouncing off of one another naturally.

Outside the walls of the resort, they were Commissioner Gordon and Bruce Wayne. They walked two very separate, very different paths, and Jim knew that he didn’t fit in with Bruce’s world. He wasn’t rich or poised, and he didn’t have a silver tongue like some of the people Bruce spoke to on a daily basis. He wouldn’t and _couldn’t_ keep up even if he tried.

That was assuming that there _would_ be anything beyond Paradise. 

The thought sent a pang of longing through Jim’s chest, ricocheting through his lungs. At the end of the day, Bruce was his cover, providing him with an opportunity to investigate. Their friendship was a pleasant byproduct of that, and Jim knew better than to expect anything else.

And yet, as Bruce offered him another relaxed, sweet smile from across the table, Jim _hoped._

* * *

It was going to be a long evening. 

The sun had set some time ago - too long for Jim to pinpoint - and the remains of their dinner still sat on a tray on the coffee table. All of their notes and papers were spread across the tiny table at the back of their room, and Jim hunched over it with his phone to his ear as he relayed their progress to Renee. 

Bruce had disappeared at some point when Dick had called, shutting himself in the bathroom to talk to him in private. Jim had barely noticed.

“They’re being really fucking tight-lipped about it,” Jim grumbled into his phone. He swept his free hand across his forehead, pushing up a stray lock of hair that had fallen across it. “Honestly, Renee, it’s slow going. Can’t even try to stage a sale.”

 _“Jim, don’t take this the wrong way,”_ Renee said, already snickering, _“but you don’t exactly look like the kind of guy who’d want to go for a drug deal.”_

“So you’re saying I should ask Bruce to?”

_“I’m just saying that I think he might be a little more convincing about it.”_

He rubbed his forehead. If he pressed hard enough, maybe the ache building behind his eyes would go away; Jim couldn’t tell if it was born from exhaustion or frustration, but either way, it was fucking annoying. Apparently, the stress relief from his orgasm that morning hadn’t lasted all that long in the end. “Renee, it’s bad enough I’m putting him in the line of fire here. I can’t ask him to literally try to buy drugs.”

 _“I just think he’s already doing a lot better than we thought,”_ Renee said; Jim could picture her holding up a placating hand, just like she always did to soothe him on the few occasions his hackles rose. _“Bruce is their target audience. He’s handsome, young-”_

“Not that much younger than me, Renee.”

 _“And,”_ Renee continued, unperturbed, _“rich. That’s what they’re after. Once you stick your necks out again, I think you should let him lead. If it gets you somewhere, great. If not, you can keep going the way you are, no harm done.”_

Privately, Jim thought that there could, in fact, be some harm done, but he held his tongue. “I’ll consider it.” The bathroom door opened, and he heard Bruce saying quiet goodbyes. “Renee, I need to go. I’ll catch you later, I’ll send over my notes.” 

_“Is the husband calling, Jim?”_ He could hear her barely suppressed laugh in the way her voice shook a little. He hadn’t told her about his crush, so Jim wondered just how damn obvious he was.

His cheeks burned, prickling with embarrassment. “Shut up. Have a good evening, Renee.”

_“You, too.”_

He hung up, and Bruce padded out from the bedroom clad in his pyjamas already. He settled against the archway with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his sweats hanging low on his hips. His hair looked so soft after his shower, just as soft as the smile on his lips when Jim glanced across at him, and his heart _ached._

“How’s the GCPD?” Bruce asked, pushing himself off from the archway to wander over.

“Good. I was just filling Renee in, considering what we’ve found over the past few days.” Jim settled back in his chair, giving Bruce room to look down at their findings. He felt his the capacity of his lungs drop by half when Bruce planted a hand on the edge of the table to prop himself up lazily as he looked down at it. “How’s the family?”

The corner of Bruce’s lips twitched upwards. “They’re fine. I think Alfred will be grateful to have me home eventually, though.”

Jim raised his eyebrows. “Kids causing trouble?”

Bruce chuckled, head tilting to one side. “Something like that. I take it Gotham is the same as it always is?”

“Pretty much.”

Bruce just hummed a sort of satisfied noise, as if he was pleased to have his assumption proven right. His gaze lingered on Jim, considering; clearly, he’d already moved on from the subject of their phonecalls, and Jim felt a little like he was stuck under the microscope. He wasn’t sure whether to squirm or sit and wait it out. 

In the end, he cracked. He decided he wouldn’t tell the rest of the GCPD that. “What?” he asked, amused.

“You look stressed,” Bruce said simply. That same sweet smile lingered around the edges of his features, softening them where they seemed too hard or sharp. 

Jim rolled his eyes. “I can’t imagine why.”

“I was going somewhere with that, Jim,” he chuckled. Bruce straightened up, tilting his head towards the couch. “Why don’t we just settle in and watch a movie tonight? We haven’t done that yet. It might be good to do something more normal.”

Jim followed his line of sight. So far, they’d only used the couch for quick dinners and meetings over their notes; it was only now that Jim realised they hadn’t actually used their living room _like_ a living room. It had become more like a glorified hallway, connecting the door to the bedroom to guide them there to crash for the night. Even now, after a relatively relaxed day, Jim could feel exhaustion weighing heavily in his bones, and the thought of just collapsing into bed was a tempting one.

But then again, he did miss the more familiar things. Paradise was a nice taste of what it was like to be rich, but Jim was a simple man at heart.

“Fuck it,” he sighed, pushing himself back from the table. “Why not? You can go pick something out, I’m gonna put all of this away.”

“Don’t forget your pyjamas,” Bruce teased, bumping their elbows together before he walked away. “This is a slumber party now, Jim. You look good like that, but it’s not exactly movie night attire.”

Jim damn near choked at the compliment, subtle as it was; he was still in what he’d worn to the pool, so it wasn’t exactly anything _special._ His fingers slipped briefly on his handful of pages as he tucked them back into their folder, and he made sure to look away as his cheeks flamed. He _really_ needed to get a handle on his crush.

“Are there snacks at this slumber party?” he asked. 

The couch creaked as Bruce settled into it. “As a matter of fact, yes. I ordered some chips and stuff with our food a few days ago and hid them in my luggage while you were in the shower. They’re in my suitcase. Could you grab them?”

“Sure.” Jim trooped through to the bedroom to put his things away and change. Bruce was right; it was nice to change out of the afternoon’s clothes and switch into something more comfortable. 

Bruce even had drinks ready when he reappeared in the living room with the snacks under his arms. He grinned at Jim as he wiggled a bottle of beer in an offering. Bruce must have hidden those somewhere, right? “Want one?”

“You don’t have to wine and dine me, you know,” Jim joked, forcing the words out through his throat. In fact, he’d like nothing more than to have a comfortable evening with Bruce just like this, but with the added comfort of being allowed to touch Bruce explicitly romantically. Still, he raised a hand to wiggle his ring finger at Bruce playfully. “We’re already married, as far as the rest of the world is concerned right now.”

“So you’re saying I should cancel the room service I ordered?” 

Jim looked at him for a long moment, trying to decipher the way Bruce had dodged his teasing so neatly, so smoothly. Bruce didn’t even have the grace to look flustered; his eyebrows were raised in what seemed to be a genuine question, as if Jim would ever turn down the opportunity to sit and just spend time with Bruce.

It was heartbreakingly sweet, pure and simple. 

“What did you order?” Jim asked, slumping down onto the couch next to him. 

There was a knock at the door. Bruce grinned at him. “Dessert.”

Dessert turned out to be some cake to share, the perfectly decadent kind with too much icing and beautiful curls of chocolate on top. It came apart easily under Jim’s fork, and it tasted divine. 

“Between this and the beer, you really are trying to impress me, huh?” Jim teased. “Next thing you’re gonna tell me is you’ve picked one of my favourite movies, too.”

Bruce carefully didn’t look at him. “How does _The Godfather_ sound?”

Jim stared at him. “Okay, how did you do that?”

There was a funny little smile on Bruce’s face, one that seemed somehow both pleased and familiar. He couldn’t place it, but it was in the way it pulled at the corners of his mouth, almost secretive, as if Bruce was trying to hide the full spectrum of the emotion. “Lucky guess.”

Somehow, Jim doubted that. Part of him wondered if, by some chance, Batman had told him - he fondly remembered one quieter night where they’d just sat to talk about anything and everything, and that had _definitely_ come up at one point - and then that begged the question of _why_ Jim had come up as a conversation starter in the first place. It was a train of thought that was entirely too complicated, much too tangled with his own feelings, and he gently put it to rest for now.

He puffed out a gentle breath as Bruce pressed play. They were close enough on the two-seater couch for their knees to bump in a friendly manner when they adjusted, but it still felt like there was an infinite amount of space between them, a crevasse that Jim didn’t dare to cross. 

And yet.

And yet he was touched by the thought Bruce had put into this, the attention to detail just to get Jim to relax after a stressful few days. When he knocked his knee against Bruce’s more deliberately, Bruce knocked back.

It wasn’t exactly the handholding Jim wanted, but it would do.


	7. Day 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr @capedcommissioner!

Bruce wasn’t in bed next to him.

His pulse sluggishly rose, dragging him out from the last dregs of his sleepy haze to force him into the real world, the one where they were firmly nestled in the lion’s den. So far, Jim hadn’t had much reason to worry, not when he was the first to rise most mornings, and there hadn’t even been any hint of someone sneaking into their room while they were gone. Really, there was nothing to be concerned about; he half expected to hear the shower start up in a few moments.

And yet, Bruce’s absence was a startling realisation, one that jolted Jim more than he wanted to admit. It hadn’t even been a week and yet there he was, reaching out to pat the empty space next to him to see how long it had been since Bruce had occupied it; warmth still lingered there, so he couldn’t have gone far. 

Before he could do much more than slide his glasses onto his nose, though, the mystery solved itself. Bruce reappeared with a tray in his hands and a smile on his face. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” Jim propped himself up against the pillows with a frown. “What are you doing?”

“Bringing you breakfast in bed. I would have made it myself if the rooms came with kitchens, but I made do with ordering it instead.”

Bruce came over to his side to place the tray across his lap. His usual was there waiting for him - eggs and bacon and toast, a steaming mug of coffee to match - right next to a second plate that could only be for Bruce himself. Carefully, Bruce perched on the edge of the bed next to Jim’s knee, and he scooped up the second mug of coffee to cradle it in his hands.

Jim raised an eyebrow as he reached for his cutlery. “What’s this about?”

“I’m trying to do something nice for you,” Bruce said, a smile curving across his lips. “And I wasn’t sure what you wanted to do today, but you looked tired last night. I figured a little extra sleep and another day of keeping our heads down wouldn’t go amiss.”

Well, he couldn’t argue with that, not when he had food and a handsome man at his bedside. “It’s not a bad idea,” Jim admitted, inclining his head. “What did you have in mind?”

Somehow, Bruce managed to look sheepish. “I don’t know what you want to do after breakfast, but… I was thinking we could go out for dinner again tonight.”

Jim considered him as he chewed. There was something _hesitant_ about the way Bruce said it that made Jim think it wasn’t a normal kind of dinner; they’d eaten down at the restaurant almost every night, so what would be so different about this time? It wasn’t even like it would be his first time wearing a suit to it.

Unless…

Bruce’s cheeks were just a touch pink. He didn’t meet Jim’s eyes as he picked at his own breakfast.

 _Oh._ Realisation washed over Jim in a warm wave, settling deep into his bones like sinking into a bath. His eyebrows bumped up as he studied the side of Bruce’s face, seeking out more little tells just to make sure - and then there was the way Bruce looked at him, open and sweet, those bright blue eyes gentling at the corners with fondness. The signs were almost imperceptible sometimes, hidden in the tiniest changes when Bruce looked from any other person to Jim, but they were there, and Jim had been blind to them this whole time.

Maybe Jim wasn’t so alone in his affection after all. 

Why on Earth would Bruce Wayne want him, though? He could have almost anyone he wanted - certainly anyone here at Paradise - and yet here he was, shyly asking Jim to dinner officially.

Mere days ago, Jim had thought Bruce was an enigma. He’d been permitted to peel back some of those layers as he learned more about the man, but Jim could guess that there were parts of Bruce he didn’t know yet, things that he still held back. He wasn’t surprised, not when it was only just coming up to a week of knowing each other. It was only natural.

There was something earnest about the honesty in Bruce’s eyes, though, like he _wanted_ to tell Jim something. 

“We can do dinner,” Jim said, bumping Bruce’s back with his knee. 

Bruce’s face lit up - it was subtle, starting with a small smile and ending with his eyes crinkling at the corners - and Jim felt his heart skip _several_ beats in his chest. 

“What do you want to do in the meantime?” Bruce asked, meeting his eyes more readily this time. He just _opened up_ to Jim, twisting so he could prop a knee up on the bed and face him as they ate. It left a fluttery feeling in Jim’s veins, which was something that he hadn’t felt for a _long_ damn time. He certainly hadn’t expected it to come from something like _this._

Hell, he didn’t even know what they _were,_ if anything at all. 

He didn’t dare to think about this delicate thing outside of Paradise, fearing that it might burst like a bubble. If he didn’t look at it too closely, it would remain, hovering uncertainly at the corners of his vision so he could enjoy it for just a little longer. 

Jim swallowed hard, forcing down his mouthful of bacon. “Depends how long you let me sleep in.”

“Not that long,” Bruce promised, grinning. “It’s ten.”

_“Ten?”_

“You looked _exhausted,_ Jim. You didn’t stir when your alarm went off.”

Jim rubbed at his jaw with a sigh. He supposed the stress of it had gotten to him, even if he hadn’t really felt the tiredness. “Okay, fair. Thanks.” 

Bruce gave him that soft smile again over his mug of coffee. “Of course.”

“Still,” Jim said, scraping the last of his breakfast onto his fork, “if you have any ideas for laying low, I’ll hear ‘em. It’d be nice of it was constructive even if we’re taking it easy.”

“Actually, I _do_ have an idea.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I’m all ears.”

But Bruce didn’t give up any hints. He just grinned, downed the rest of his coffee, and got to his feet. “Enjoy a little longer in bed if you want,” Bruce said, nodding towards him. “I’ll take the tray and get things ready.”

Jim placed his empty mug on the tray with a suspicious look. “Get what ready? Are we not leaving the room?”

Bruce scooped up the tray with a wink. “You’ll see.”

* * *

‘Getting things ready’ turned out to be moving the little table to the balcony again. Bruce had a tall glass of water waiting for him when Jim emerged from his shower, dressed comfortably in shorts and a shirt. He took a grateful sip, if only to stave off the heat of the day before it had really started.

“Alright, I’m curious,” Jim admitted, sinking into one of the chairs. “What’s the plan?”

Bruce tilted his head towards their unrestricted view of the pool and the surrounding buildings. “Just some old fashioned surveillance, Jim. The last time we did this was the first day; I thought it might be a good idea to see if any patterns have changed.”

It was smart. Bruce just really kept on impressing. 

His notepad thumped onto the table, and Bruce dropped the pen on top. “And I thought it might be a good idea to list any guests we recognise,” he continued, dropping into the seat opposite Jim. He laced his fingers together under his chin, resting there as he spoke. “Maybe it could give us some links. If we’re lucky, we might find someone who we know will be more susceptible to giving us information.”

“Smart.” Jim took up his pen, letting it settle between his fingers comfortably as he flipped open the pad to a blank page. “It’s gonna be a long day if this is the only plan, you know. Don’t feel like you have to sit through it with me.”

Bruce dismissed the idea with a roll of his eyes. “If you think of something else that you want to check out, just let me know. Otherwise, I’m not going to get bored, Jim. I’ve sat through much more dull things.”

“Like…?”

“Board meetings, for one.” Bruce puffed out a short breath through his nose. “They don’t need my input as much as you’d think. I just have to go to show my face.”

Reluctantly, Jim tore his gaze away from Bruce. He looked out across the grounds, peering down at the people already trailing into the pool to escape the mounting heat. “You _are_ the CEO,” he reminded Bruce, jotting something down. “That’d be like me saying I don’t enjoy briefings when Renee runs them.”

“There’s a difference between helping Gotham and talking about the price of shares, Jim.”

He snorted, acquiescing with a tilt of his head. “You got me there.” 

They fell into companionable silence, broken only by the occasional murmur here and there as the time passed. The sun beat down on Jim’s face, and he fought off a new wave of sleepiness - _how_ was he still tired after so much rest? - as he scanned the outskirts of the buildings for any unusual activity. He tore off a page of the notepad, adding it to the pile he had specifically for staff behaviour, and as he did, he shot Bruce a surreptitious little glance.

The hints of more from that morning had stayed tucked away in the bedroom like a hushed secret. Out here, Bruce had acted the same as ever, as if he hadn’t partially laid his cards on the table and asked Jim on a sort of date. It had been bold, _brave_ of him, and Jim had to give him credit for it; he didn’t think he would have had the balls to be the one to do it.

Jim didn’t realise how long he’d been staring until Bruce looked his way. “Everything okay, Jim?”

His cheeks felt warm. “I’m fine. You see anything interesting over there?”

Bruce hummed thoughtfully, craning his neck to peer around his side of the building. “Nothing. My side is mostly just wall.” He settled back in his seat again, only to stretch with a long, catlike yawn. “If you want lunch, I can order some. Depends on when you’d like to go for dinner, or if you want to go out in between.”

There was the mention of dinner again. Jim tapped the end of his pen against his jaw idly, pretending to be lost in thought for a moment longer. “We can order in.” And, because now he did feel a little emboldened, he added, “We can put a pin in this and watch a movie with it, too.”

He felt Bruce shoot him a look, the kind that sent sparks skittering across Jim’s skin. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll go and get everything set up.”

As he left, his hand briefly landed on Jim’s shoulder. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now, and it renewed his motivation to keep watch until their food arrived. 

* * *

Jim saw Bruce before they went down to the restaurant, of course. In fact, he’d seen the exact same outfit before in just the same setting, enough that he could have pictured it if he wanted to. He knew how nice suits looked on Bruce, how well the blue of his tie complimented his eyes, and how neatly the silver tie pin and cufflinks fit with the whole ensemble. It was like a second skin for Bruce, something that he wore as easily as he breathed. 

And yet, it felt different this time when Bruce took him by the arm and led him to their table. There was a pleasant fizz of tension there, bubbling up under the surface at the first unnecessary brush of Bruce’s fingers against his.

Gentle classical music accompanied them to their table. It wasn’t their usual, Jim realised, and for good reason; the light of the chandeliers didn’t fully reach them here, so there was a candle at the centre of the table to cast a flickering, dancing glow across their faces. It threw the handsome shape of Bruce’s jaw into sharp relief as he cast Jim a warm look, and he was glad that he was already sitting considering his knees went a little weak at the sight.

“This is different,” Jim said cautiously, scooping up his menu to browse. He’d seen it enough by now to know that it was mostly fancy, but there were also some familiar dishes on there. As always, he tried to ignore the prices listed next to them.

There was a smile on Bruce’s face, a small one that spoke a thousand words. It left Jim a little breathless. “I thought we could have a change of scenery,” he replied, glancing at Jim over his menu. “Is that okay?”

“It’s fine.” It was _perfect,_ actually, too perfect. It had hope bubbling up in his chest in a way that he had tried hard to suppress until now, even with how downright _sweet_ Bruce had been today. 

A waiter materialised, pen and pad at the ready. Jim glanced at him as Bruce ordered them some wine to start with, idly noting that the man didn’t look unlike Bruce; he had green eyes and slightly longer hair, but the build was similar, and there was a note of familiarity in his nose. In short, he was, admittedly, quite handsome, and if Jim was a few years younger and neither of them were working, he might have considered flirting. 

Bruce didn’t comment on Jim’s staring until he’d returned to drop off their drinks and note down what they wanted to eat, and as soon as he was out of earshot, Bruce grinned at Jim with enough teasing in his eyes to make his cheeks flush.

“What?” he asked, gruff.

“Oh, you know.” Bruce curled his fingers around the stem of his wineglass, chuckling. “I’m just a little entertained by you eyeing up the waiter while you’re already on a date.”

“I wasn’t-” Jim huffed, rubbing at his face in an effort to get rid of his blush. “I wasn’t _eyeing him up._ ” 

Bruce shrugged as he lifted his glass to hide his smirk. “He’s handsome, I suppose.”

Jim’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “You _suppose?_ Are you trying to tell me you _didn’t_ find him good looking?”

“He’s not my type,” Bruce said simply, casually setting his glass back on the tablecloth. His focus came back to Jim a little heavier than before, more _intentional_ as he raked his gaze up and down what he could see of him over the table. Jim felt warm all the way up to the tips of his ears as Bruce added, “I don’t usually go for the ken doll sort of man.”

There was absolutely no subtlety there, nothing that Jim could even try to misinterpret if he wanted to. His tongue felt like a heavy weight in his mouth, hard to control as he worked to get his scattered thoughts back into place. “I… I thought that _was_ your usual kind of guy. The papers-”

“Get it wrong,” Bruce said, rolling his eyes. “I wasn’t even dating half of the people they’ve seen me with, women included. But it’s easier to let the press think what they want to, so I can keep my private life more _private._ I prefer it that way.”

“Right.” Jim folded his arms on the table. He felt marginally steadier for doing so. “And what could a guy like you possibly have to keep private?”

Smiling, Bruce leaned in with him, meeting his eyes over the flicker of the candle. “My family, for one,” he said wryly. 

Jim rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

“And there are some other things that I prefer to keep out of the public eye.” Bruce rested his chin on his linked fingers, a too bland smile on his face. It was a clearly fake one, and he wasn’t even trying to hide it from Jim; it made him wonder just what it was that Bruce was referring to, but he didn’t press. “Now, I know _you’re_ a private person, but I didn’t know that that was your type of man.”

Jim snorted. “I prefer someone with a little more going on behind the eyes.” He stared pointedly back at Bruce, hoping he picked up the meaning behind his words. Two could play at Bruce’s game, after all.

It worked. Bruce’s cheeks turned just the slightest bit pink.

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm.” Jim sipped at his wine. He wasn’t usually a wine person, but it wasn’t bad. 

Bruce was the first to look away. His gaze dropped down to his hands with a quiet laugh, a layered smile on his face. Some parts were familiar - the warmth, the amusement - but there were others that he couldn’t identify, areas that must have related to pieces of Bruce that he didn’t know yet. 

Their food arrived, and it was enough of a distraction to pause their conversation - Jim hadn’t known where to continue anyway, so he was almost grateful to be able to shove a bite of pork into his mouth so he didn’t embarrass himself. Bruce seemed to be of the same mind as he took a moment to enjoy his salmon, his eyes still cast down on his plate for the time being rather than looking up at Jim. 

He still couldn’t quite believe that he’d openly flirted with Bruce Wayne, of all people.

It was only when Jim reached for his wine again that he spoke, landing on the first subject that came to mind - the one thing they had in common, really. “The kids still missing you?”

“Yes, but they’d never admit it.” Bruce chuckled, twirling his fork in his fingers. “You know, you haven’t really mentioned your daughter this entire time. Barbara, isn’t it?”

Jim couldn’t help smiling just at the sound of her name. “Yeah. She’s been busy, I haven’t wanted to interrupt her by calling.” There just simply hadn’t been a good time to reach out beyond a few texts over the past few days, not when she’d been running around Gotham helping out Batman in Jim’s absence. 

She didn’t know he knew that, though. Jim had elected to keep his discovery silent since she hadn’t told him herself. In the end, it hadn’t been deliberate; he was just too good at what he did to stop himself from stumbling across the signs. 

That, and she really was not as subtle as she thought when she stood in the background with Nightwing and Robin, far behind Batman in an attempt to obscure her features. Her hair was a dead giveaway. Barbara was a devilishly smart young woman, so Jim had to wonder if she’d actually let him spot her on purpose, just to tell him without words. Neither of them had discussed it. 

Bruce tilted his head, curious. “Dick did mention that she was being run off her feet at the moment. I was wondering, since I hadn’t heard about them hanging out for a little while.”

“You know, I’m surprised we didn’t know each other more before this,” Jim said, grinning. “Our kids are already friends. Why weren’t we?”

Bruce laughed, and as he settled, he shook his head. There was a sparkle in his eye that seemed to imply that he knew something that Jim didn’t. “Beats me,” he said simply. “I half expected Dick to ask about having Babs stay for a movie night when they were younger.”

The sound of Barbara’s nickname rolling so naturally from Bruce’s tongue stirred something in Jim’s chest. It was warm and sweet, and it immediately held him tight. Somehow, it was oddly close to the same feeling of domesticity he got when he was home with Barbara herself, pottering around their little kitchen to make dinner before they settled in for some godawful straight-to-TV movie. 

“I thought Babs would ask the same thing,” Jim admitted, chuckling down at his forkful of vegetables. “I was wondering when I’d have to pretend to be an intimidating dad. It’s not really my thing, but…”

Bruce snickered again. “I promise you, that never would have been necessary. Dick and his boyfriend have been together for…” He trailed off, squinting into the distance. “Almost ten years now, I think.”

_“Ten?”_

“High school sweethearts,” Bruce said fondly. “They’re inseparable. I half expect one of them will pop the question any day now. Wally’s basically already a part of the family anyway.”

Jim propped his chin up on his hand, admiring this gentler side to Bruce. He’d seen plenty of it in the past week, and it was still just as heartwarming to hear about it all over again. He had, of course, known before they’d ever met that Bruce had a big family, but it was nice to see that they seemed to share the same love for parenthood. There was even more common ground on top of that, Jim realised belatedly, given that they were both single fathers. Bruce had Alfred to help, but it had only ever been Jim and Barbara.

They finished their meals, and Jim didn’t even notice when he swallowed his last bite. He and Bruce were lost in their chatter. Their waiter swept away their empty plates, and he didn’t return with the dessert menu right away, which was just fine by Jim; he wanted a moment to digest before he considered more anyway.

“You know,” Bruce said, idly playing with the edge of a napkin, “you and Babs _should_ come over for a movie night once this is done.”

Jim sat back a little, surprised. “Me, too?”

Bruce glanced at him from under his lashes, a smile on his lips. “I enjoy your company, Jim. It’d be nice to have the two of you around.”

The offer felt more weighted than just an invitation to watch a movie. Jim almost wanted to ask if it was an effort to combine their two little families, turning them into one for the night - and if that meant anything for the two of them in particular - but he held his tongue. The thought was too much this early on, even for him. “Well,” he said slowly, “we can definitely figure something out when we get home. People might talk, though.”

Bruce waved a dismissive hand. “Let them. They’re always talking, regardless of whether there’s any truth to it.”

“You forget how well known we both are in Gotham,” Jim reminded him, eyebrows raised. If reporters noticed Bruce on his own, they’d definitely notice Commissioner Gordon making a personal visit.

“Then you brought Babs over to visit and decided to stay for dinner, too,” Bruce replied, smiling. “Only if you want to, of course.”

Jim couldn’t help the breathless little laugh that tumbled out of him. “Of course I want to.”

Their waiter returned at last, placing a dessert menu between them before he vanished back into the restaurant to let them peruse. Bruce angled it so that they could both see, and when he leaned in to read, their heads were close enough that it really wouldn’t have taken much to kiss Bruce’s cheek. It was a tempting thought - they were in public, there was a reason - but it felt wrong to jump to it after what had been such a sincere, genuine dinner.

“Jim,” Bruce said, smiling, “do you want to share dessert?”

“Sure. What were you thinking?”

Bruce stayed silent, a cryptic grin on his face as the waiter returned. He handed the menu back, and he asked for a slice of the chocolate gateau with two forks to go with it. Jim felt like a teenager all over again as he sat there with Bruce, trading fond looks that he didn’t have to fake or hide now. 

He ducked his head with a laugh when, after their cake arrived, Bruce offered him the first bite from his own fork. 

“Bruce.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled back at Jim. “Yes?”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

Jim gave in with another quiet chuckle, leaning in to take the bite. Despite his teasing, he scooped up a chunk and held out his fork for Bruce, pleased to hear his own soft hum as he chewed. “It’s good,” Bruce said.

“Good, and I can probably never afford a slice ever again,” Jim joked, just to hear Bruce laugh. 

The cake didn’t last long, not between the two of them. Even when they were done and the last of their dinnerware had been whisked away, they lingered. Jim wasn’t sure he could bring himself to leave yet, not when they seemed to be wrapped up in such a delicate bubble in the corner of the restaurant. Here, it was perfect, and anything felt possible. The world and the mission outside didn’t exist.

Jim reached up to adjust his tie, loosening the knot just a little. “As nice as this is, I can’t wait to get out of this fucking thing. I think this is the longest you’ve kept me in it so far, you know.”

Bruce’s hum betrayed his amusement once again, right alongside the glimmer in his eyes. As Jim lowered his hands, one of Bruce’s own snaked across the tablecloth to rest on Jim’s wrist and gently squeeze. “Blue looks good on you, though, you know,” he murmured. Something in his voice made Jim’s breath catch in his throat. _“You_ look good.”

“Trying to charm me?” Jim replied just as quietly. He wasn’t sure he could summon anything louder if he tried.

His fingers shifted, settling on the back of Jim’s hand. “Can’t I just compliment you?” 

“Compliments will get you places.”

“Maybe I’m trying to.”

Jim swallowed.

They left shortly after, but the bubble seemed to stay with them. Their hands stayed intertwined on their way back to their room, and for once, Jim actually allowed himself to indulge in the feeling. Bruce’s skin was warm against his own, and only now did he realise that there were callouses on Bruce’s palms. 

He’d never noticed those before. What could a billionaire possibly do to earn them?

Bruce swiped his keycard, and he held the door open for Jim to let him in. “Age before beauty,” he teased. 

“I miss those compliments now,” Jim snorted, turning on his heel to watch Bruce close the door securely behind them. “Jesus, Bruce, I’m not even that much older than you.”

“And you’re significantly more handsome than me,” Bruce shot back just as playfully.

They lingered there, caught between the door and the couch. Jim tucked his hands into his pockets, unsure where to go; he knew what he wanted to do, of course, and even though this had been, quite possibly, one of the more romantic evenings of his life, he still didn’t know if it would be entirely welcome. 

Bruce gnawed at his bottom lip. “Jim,” he started, and then stopped.

Jim nodded, encouraging. He ignored the pounding of his heart. “Go ahead.”

Bruce let out a long, slow exhale, and he took the smallest step forwards, just to bring them a tad closer. “Can I kiss you?”

His heart thrashed behind his ribs. It was a wonder that he could still breathe, really. 

Rather than reply verbally, Jim closed the gap between them. His hands sought out Bruce’s, and he closed his eyes as he tilted his head to press his lips to Bruce’s. 

It wasn’t their first kiss, of course, but it certainly felt like it. Making out to keep their cover had been thrilling, exciting, but this was _sweet._ Bruce touched him so carefully, rubbing his thumbs in gentle circles against the sides of Jim’s hands, as if he was scared that he’d vanish. Jim wasn’t entirely sure where one kiss ended and the other began, but he felt more than heard Bruce’s breathless laugh as they met again, eager for a second.

There were no excuses for this kiss, nothing that Jim could explain away even if he wanted to. In the safety of their room, nobody could see them; this time, it wasn’t a performance. 

It was for them, and them alone.


	8. Day 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember you can find me on Tumblr @capedcommissioner! Also, if there's any scenes you'd like to see from another perspective, let me know in a comment!
> 
> Do not interact if you ship incest.

The kisses kept coming the next day. Bruce greeted him one when he pulled himself out of bed after Jim, looping an arm around his middle to peck his cheek while Jim brushed his teeth. The mirror showed his blush plain as day. 

“Morning,” he said once he’d rinsed out his mouth. It was, he realised, the first time they’d blended their morning routines; Bruce didn’t normally share the sink with him.

Then again, last night had changed some things.

They had retired for the night after their kiss at the door, taking turns showering before climbing into bed. Nothing had happened beyond a goodnight kiss and, to Jim’s pleasant surprise, a little bit of cuddling. It had still been polite and more distant than that one morning he had woken to Bruce spooning him, but there had been something really, really comforting about falling asleep with his fingers tangled with Bruce’s.

“Morning,” Bruce chirped, reaching for his own toothbrush as he took Jim’s place in front of the sink. “Would you mind getting us some breakfast? I’m starving.”

“Already working on it.” Jim squeezed his shoulder before stepping out of the bathroom. 

Bruce took a little longer, apparently deciding to throw in the towel and take a shower to start his day. By the time he emerged, food was waiting for him, and Jim watched with some amusement as he descended on it with obvious glee. This time, when they sat together on the couch, Jim wasn’t shy about letting their knees press together; he enjoyed the physical affection, no matter how small.

They hadn’t talked about this yet. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure how to start, so he circled around to something else.

“I think we should try the casino again tonight,” he said. Bruce hummed, encouraging him around his mouthful, so he continued, only somewhat reluctantly. “Montoya thinks you’d be better at convincing them we want to buy.”

Bruce snorted. “I’ve never touched drugs. If they’ve done their research on me, they’d know that.”

“But, to use Montoya’s words, you’re their target audience.” Jim fondly bumped his knee against Bruce’s, just to get a bump in return. “They’re more likely to go for it if you ask instead of me. I figured we can hang out, wait until we see someone accept, and then we try to intercept to ask for our own.”

“At the very least, we can confirm where it’s coming from,” Bruce agreed, inclining his head. “That corridor.”

Jim’s cheeks warmed at the memory. “Exactly. And if we get proof that they’re moving drugs around in here-”

“Which they are,” Bruce said pointedly. 

“-I can ask for backup and we can be done.” Jim rolled his eyes, ignoring Bruce’s interruption. “I need proof before I can call in the cavalry, Bruce.”

“I know. The more we have, the better chance of a charges sticking.” 

It was such an oddly Batman point - the focus on the culprits receiving their due justice - that Jim snorted. He wondered what Batman would make of all of this when they got back to Gotham; he probably hadn’t anticipated that things would take a more genuinely romantic turn by the end of their stay at the resort. He wasn’t sure if Batman would be amused or annoyed, and which of the two of them would receive what response.

Jim also wasn’t sure when the investigation had become a  _ ‘we’ _ thing. It was a pleasant surprise.

* * *

Bruce pressed up behind him, snaking an arm around his waist to tug him back against his chest. Warmth prickled across Jim’s skin in a telltale way he recognised, and he took a quick gulp of his whiskey in a desperate attempt to quell it. It was hard with the way he could feel Bruce’s smile against his ear, the security of his arm around his middle as they settled in at the roulette table.

“Always bet on black,” Bruce murmured, the words puffing out against the shell of his ear. There was a quiet laugh in his voice, but he didn’t share the joke.

Regardless, he listened. He bet on black.

Bruce’s chin settled on his shoulder, and Jim could practically feel his gaze roaming around the room while he stared down at the spinning roulette wheel. 

The hand on his hip squeezed. “There,” Bruce breathed, his voice barely there.

Jim glanced up. An attendant approached a man at another table, and they exchanged money and goods with an impressive sleight of hand that Jim almost missed. 

The weight at his back disappeared. He blinked, and Bruce was striding across the room, drink still in hand, to catch the member of staff before he vanished into the crowd again. There was a charming smile on Bruce’s face as he inclined his head in that way he always did when he was trying to have a private conversation.

The roulette wheel rattled, and the ball came to rest on red.

Bruce returned with the barest hint of a frown on his face. To anyone else, it was invisible, but Jim saw the way his lips were pressed together just the slightest bit in annoyance. He slipped into place behind Jim, his hands curving to fit against his waist.

“No dice?” he asked, turning his head to whisper to him.

“He played innocent,” Bruce murmured. “Pretended like he didn’t know what I was talking about.”

Jim grimaced, pretending it was from the aftertaste of the last of his drink. “Great.”

He fell silent then, holding back the things he wanted to say. They were surrounded by too many people for him to articulate it properly anyway. 

Bruce pressed closer as the roulette wheel spun. “I could wait for someone else and try again.”

Jim hesitated, shooting a quick, cautious look around the room. If they had refused Bruce once, then odds were they would refuse him again. Asking another member of staff would only draw attention, more than they already had by sneaking into the back rooms. It felt like there was a noose dangling overhead, threatening to descend if they tried to move any quicker; Jim was wary of pressing much harder right now, just in case they decided they weren’t worth the trouble.

He leaned back into Bruce’s embrace and shook his head. “Let’s just enjoy ourselves.”

There was a low hum against his ear, and Bruce gently squeezed his hip. The touch sent sparks crashing through Jim’s nerves, and he did his best to ignore just how nice it was when Bruce pressed a kiss to the spot under his ear. Warmth trickled down from Bruce’s lips anyway, settling low in Jim’s stomach to make his veins throb. “Do you want another drink?”

“Mhm. Please.”

Bruce peeled away from him, taking their empty glasses with him. 

It gave Jim a moment to breathe. He watched Bruce as he crossed the floor and headed to the bar, and then he dropped his gaze to observe the next round of roulette silently; he hadn’t bet this time, but when it came to rest, it landed on black. 

Bruce returned, martinis in hand. He passed one to Jim, their fingers brushing on the stem of the glass. 

“Are you gonna play again?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jim rolled his eyes and placed down a few more chips. “Sure. Maybe it’ll actually land on black this time.”

There was a funny smile on Bruce’s lips, half hidden by his martini. “It didn’t last time?”

“Nope. Not when I made my bet.”

The wheel spun again. It rattled noisily as the ball jumped from number to number, colour to colour. Jim took a sip of his drink, wrinkling his nose slightly at the taste; he preferred the whiskey from earlier.

He glanced across at Bruce, and promptly felt heat rise all the way up to the tips of his ears. As he made eye contact, Bruce’s lips slowly, deliberately closed around the remaining olive on his cocktail stick; he shot Jim a wink as he dragged it off the end with his teeth. He chewed, swallowed, and then smiled a little too innocently at him.

Jim gulped down the last of his martini a little painfully, hoping it would quell the ridiculous amount of heat in his stomach. It didn’t.

This time, the ball landed on black.

* * *

As soon as they set foot in their room, Jim reached up to loosen his tie, desperate for some cool air on his overheated skin. He exhaled a long breath as he heard Bruce close the door behind him.

“I’m gonna go ahead and shower,” he said carefully. Hell, Bruce hadn’t even done anything beyond a bit of nonverbal flirting - touching and kissing, for the most part - and Jim was entirely too worked up. He wasn’t looking forward to going back to the cold water, but he’d do it meant getting rid of his little problem. The last thing he wanted to do was unbalance this thing between them by being too horny too quickly.

And then Bruce cleared his throat. “You don’t have to, you know.”

Jim almost choked on his tongue. “What do you mean?”

“I can help,” Bruce offered, shrugging a shoulder. His gaze lingered on Jim much more deliberately than it had the previous night; he could feel it burning against his skin as he turned just enough to see Bruce’s face. “Well,” he continued, “it’d be more indulging both of us than just  _ helping, _ but…”

A bolt of heat shot straight through him when he realised he’d seen that expression on Bruce’s features twice before: once in the corridor, and then that morning Bruce had stayed in bed while he’d jerked off in the shower. Only now did Jim realise that it was  _ arousal. _

Bruce was just as eager as he was.

“Only if you want to,” Jim said, carefully keeping his gaze on Bruce’s. He wanted to wander, to drink in the sight of him now that he was allowed to,  _ invited _ to, but he didn’t just yet. 

“Of course I want to, Jim.” The words tumbled out of Bruce, almost like he’d been  _ waiting _ to say them. His cheeks turned a little pinker. “We don’t have to if you’d rather take things slower, but I assure you that I’m more than willing.”

The possibilities were dizzying. Jim settled back against the wall, mostly to have it support him, and held out a hand. “Well, why don’t we pick up where we left off a few days ago and see where things go?”

Bruce closed the last few steps between them to lace their fingers together, and then he leaned in to seal their mouths in a firm kiss, pressing Jim back against the wall in an echo of what had happened in the corridor. Jim melted against him, sighing into the kiss as relief and want swept through him in equal measure; he tangled his free hand in Bruce’s jacket, tugging him closer and relishing the fact that he was  _ welcome _ to touch him this time around.

It wasn’t quite the same frenzy as it had been before, not now that they could take their time. Jim didn’t try to hurry, not even when Bruce nipped at his lip and deliberately pressed their hips together. He felt the pleasant softness of Bruce’s packer, and while he wasn’t raring to go just yet, Jim still felt a twitch of interest.

And then, abruptly, it was much more than a  _ twitch _ of interest; Bruce’s thigh was between his, pressing up  _ just right, _ and he couldn’t bite back the noise that shivered out of him. Clumsily, he pressed his own knee up, moving with muscle memory despite it being a long damn time since he’d last gotten laid. Something about it made Bruce laugh quietly under his breath, even as he rocked down against his leg.

Bruce pulled away - gently, carefully, and with another sweet peck. His mouth was red from their kissing, and it took everything Jim had to not lean in again. “Jim,” he said, smiling. “I hate to disappoint, but that’s not going to do much for me through the packer.”

Jim flushed. The fact that Bruce was trans wasn’t a secret, and neither was his sexuality; he was very open about it back home, gladly so, and had made plenty of statements about the why - namely, that he wanted to do something with the platform fate had handed him with his name and fortune. “Right, sorry,” he said, squeezing Bruce’s fingers. “I forgot how much it cushioned things.”

“It’s okay,” Bruce chuckled, sounding more amused than anything else. He pecked the corner of Jim’s lips again, and then leaned back to see his face. “You’re okay with this, right?”

“Of course I am.” He watched a relieved smile cross Bruce’s face, and he beamed right back at him. It had never been a question on his mind; Bruce wasn’t even the first trans man that Jim had slept with, although it had been a long few years since last time. “Hey, how about we move this to the bedroom and you let me know what feels good for you?”

Bruce’s gaze dropped to Jim’s lips again, and it wasn’t anywhere close to innocent this time with that amount of heat. He moved away, and when his hand tugged Jim’s, he gladly followed. If he was completely honest with himself, he knew he’d follow Bruce just about anywhere at this point; he was in too deep way too fast, emotions tangling with desire, and he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Most things feel good,” Bruce told him, guiding Jim by the hips to press him back against the bed. He sat, heat pulsing through his stomach once more as Bruce climbed on after him. Breath rushed out of Jim’s lungs as he dropped back onto the bed, enchanted by the way Bruce settled comfortably above him, his knees on either side of Jim’s hips. “My only real limit is I’m not the biggest fan of penetration.”

“I wasn’t planning on jumping to that,” Jim assured him, smoothing his hands down Bruce’s sides. “It never crossed my mind.”

Bruce’s eyebrows lifted in faint surprise. “It didn’t?”

Jim tilted his head. “No? I never assume with partners.”

Bruce blinked. “I… was worried that that might be more of a conversation than it was.”

“Do people usually assume then?”

“Sometimes.”

Jim snorted. “Makes no fucking sense to me.”

Bruce laughed, bowing his head as the sound shook its way through his chest. “No, me neither.” Still smiling, he settled down on his forearms, nosing his way along Jim’s cheek so he could slot himself in close to kiss him again.

It was strange, Jim thought. For days now, his attraction had centred around that one kiss in the corridor and the glimpses of Bruce he’d seen, and yet here he was now, laughing in bed with him. He hadn’t expected to end up here - or anywhere close, in fact - and now that he was, Jim felt a familiar sweeping sensation in his chest that confirmed his earlier suspicion: this was a little bit more than just a crush for him, and he hoped to God that this would follow them back to Gotham.

Jim’s hands roamed down to untuck Bruce’s shirt, just so he could trail a palm across the soft, warm skin underneath. He got a pleased little hum against his lips for his effort, and Bruce shifted to settle between Jim’s legs, just so he could roll easily against him. It sent warmth pulsing up and down his spine, pleasure lacing through his nerves as if to remind him of what had brought them here in the first place.

He made a quiet noise against Bruce’s lips as he rocked up to meet him on the next press of his hips. As much as Jim wanted to stay there and grind, he knew that it wasn’t really doing much for Bruce, and he  _ ached _ to give him something.

“Can I…?” He trailed off, his fingers fluttering around to Bruce’s belt buckle.

His breath came out in a hot rush against Jim’s lips. “Please.”

Jim tugged it free of the belt loops, and he let it snake to the floor with a thump. He unbuttoned and unzipped just enough that he could slide a hand into Bruce’s trousers, but he kept it out of his underwear for now; instead, he slipped lower, gently nudging past the packer to press his fingers against Bruce’s dick through the cotton.

The reaction was immediate: Bruce shivered against him, and he exhaled another soft breath. “Good?” Jim murmured, and Bruce nodded clumsily as he tucked his face into the crook of Jim’s neck.

He stayed slow for now, feeling things out to see what Bruce seemed to enjoy the most. Gently, he circled his fingers around the head, light and careful and teasing all in one motion. He was rewarded by little twitches of Bruce’s hips as he sought out more, something firmer, but Jim didn’t grant it just yet.

“Jim,” Bruce huffed, and he couldn’t help laughing quietly against Bruce’s jaw. He felt his answering smile against his cheek. “I didn’t realise you were such a tease.”

“I’m mostly just trying to figure out what you like,” he admitted, holding his thumb against the base just to feel Bruce shudder against him. 

“I told you, pretty much anything.” Bruce forced himself back up onto his elbows. He was, unfortunately, too far for Jim to comfortably kiss now, but he did make a pretty picture with his pink cheeks and his bottom lip between his teeth. He seemed to be considering something, his brilliant mind working a mile a minute even as he pressed forward into Jim’s open palm in a slow grind. 

Jim smiled up at him lazily. “What?”

“Nothing, I’m just…” Bruce closed his eyes, and a gentle, breathy laugh tumbled out of him as Jim thumbed down his length. “This is nice. I wasn’t expecting slow.”

“Neither was I,” Jim admitted. Even his little fantasy in the shower had been heated and intense; if anything, this felt like they’d been here a thousand times before, like this was a common situation for the two of them to find themselves in. 

He reached up, curving his palm to fit Bruce’s jaw. He came down to kiss Jim again, muffling a noise against his lips as he went. 

“What do you want?” Bruce murmured, the words lost between kisses.

Jim wanted  _ a lot _ of things. Ideally, he wanted to abandon the mission and spend the next several days in their room, preferably in bed. There was a world of possibilities in front of him now, opening wide to reveal things he hadn’t even really thought about before, even with his hand around his own dick. His brows furrowed as he kissed Bruce a little harder at the snatches of thought, half-created fantasies vanishing before he could really get a good hold. 

“Jesus, anything,” Jim said eventually. “Can I blow you?”

The words were out of his mouth before he’d even really thought about it. Bruce’s hips stuttered, twitching forwards a little harder than he’d probably intended, but the groan coupled with it was one of the hottest things Jim had ever heard.

“Yeah,” Bruce said on an exhale. “God, yes, Jim. Where do you-”

“Anywhere.” Jim throbbed at just the thought of getting his mouth on Bruce. “Fuck, anywhere.”

Bruce peeled himself away from Jim, and he reluctantly pulled his hand free from his trousers. He rolled back onto his heels again to shrug off his jacket, and Jim briefly lost himself in the sight: Bruce Wayne in his lap, trousers open, his shirt halfway unbuttoned. There was a smile on his face as he caught Jim staring, but he continued anyway, letting his shirt slip off of his shoulders. 

To his surprise, his upper body was  _ covered _ in scars. They were of various shape and sizes, from small cuts that could have been from knives to large starbursts that he  _ recognised.  _ He’d seen far too many similar wounds to write that off - hell, he knew he had one or two himself somewhere, just like a handful of other cops in the GCPD. 

Why did it look like Bruce Wayne had been shot in the shoulder?

“Enjoying the view, Jim?” Bruce asked, bringing him back to the present.

“Maybe just a little,” he admitted. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sudden rush of spit under his tongue. The scars were forgotten, just for now.

He pushed himself upright, and Bruce’s hands landed on him within seconds. They worked to remove his shirt and jacket quickly, efficiently, and they landed in a heap on the floor somewhere to be tripped over tomorrow. For a moment, Bruce stayed there, trailing his fingers across Jim’s shoulders, through the hair on his chest, down to where it vanished underneath his waistband.

Bruce moved backwards, sliding to his feet. His trousers sagged around his hips, dragged down now by gravity. He offered Jim a hand, and just like every other time, he took it.

They traded positions. Bruce kicked off his trousers before he perched on the edge of the bed - he tossed his packer into Jim’s open suitcase amongst the fray, much to their shared amusement - and Jim just unzipped to relieve some of the pressure on his cock. He didn’t mind going without much touching for now; he was too wrapped up in bringing Bruce pleasure instead to really notice the persistent ache of arousal. He was sure he’d change his tune once Bruce got a hand on him.

Right now, though, he had other things on his mind.

Jim sunk to his knees between Bruce’s legs, sweeping his palms up his calves reverently. He passed another set of scars there, quick parallel lines that seemed to mirror claws rather than blades, but he deliberately didn’t linger. It wouldn’t be fair to, and he didn’t want to ask questions.

As Jim’s fingers reached the legs of his underwear, right next to another of those mysterious scars, Bruce exhaled a shaky breath above him; he glanced up to find Bruce’s gaze laser focused on him already. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, rubbing circles into Bruce’s inner thighs.

“Very,” Bruce promised, a smile flickering at the corners of his lips. 

Jim rocked up onto his knees to kiss him again anyway, cherishing the way Bruce sighed into it like it was familiar. He didn’t stay for long, but when he did break away to trail kisses down his chest, that smile stayed on Bruce’s face.

Humming, Jim settled back on his heels. His palms wandered just a little, stroking up to Bruce’s hips as he leaned in to kiss his dick through his underwear. Fingers wound into his hair, tight and then abruptly loose again as Bruce forced himself to relax, and Jim hummed a quiet, thankful sound as he drew the fabric a little tighter with his thumbs and kissed again.

“Jim,” Bruce breathed, his voice low and hoarse.

“Mm?”

A shiver ran through Bruce, shaking through into Jim’s palms. “Please.”

He was sorely tempted to tease, but his resolve snapped with that one word. Jim tucked his fingers into Bruce’s waistband to pull his underwear down, sliding them off and away with Bruce’s eager help. He wasted no time in pressing close again, kissing his way down Bruce’s hipbone, right down to the head of his cock. 

Bruce exhaled a breath that sounded suspiciously like a moan. Jim felt himself twitch, and he pressed the heel of his palm against himself to try and hold off his own arousal.

_ “Shit,” _ Bruce hissed, hunching forwards at the first touch of Jim’s tongue against bare skin. Just hearing Bruce swear sent a thrill through Jim, and he bit back a grin in favour of dragging the flat of his tongue up the underside of his dick. Bruce’s fingers flexed in his hair again, his thumb rubbing against his scalp almost fondly as he curved his palm against his head.

Jim closed his eyes, enjoying the prickle of heat across his skin as he sealed his lips around Bruce. His free hand flew up to grasp at Jim’s bare shoulder; his grip was tighter than was strictly necessary, but Jim didn’t mind in the slightest. If anything, it helped, and he ground his hand against himself again with a groan as he sunk down on Bruce. He shuddered under Jim’s lips, trembling with the effort of keeping his thighs apart.

He moaned as Jim pulled off of him to flick his tongue against the tip. “Holy shit,” Bruce whispered, almost like a prayer. And then, as Jim dipped down to lap at him again, it turned into a whimper, and Bruce curled over him to bow his head. “Jim, please, please keep going-”

Jim relished the way Bruce cut himself off with a sharp inhale; he’d curled his tongue around him and pressed to the base again, and now he eagerly started bobbing, building up to a steady rhythm that had Bruce’s hips rocking towards him. He regretted not looking up at his face sooner now that it was hidden, too far for Jim to crane his neck to see what he could find there, and he could only hope that there would be other chances. Right now, the shuddery sounds tumbling from Bruce’s lips were the best he had.

He pulled off again, working through the slight ache in the back of his jaw. He licked his thumb and pressed it to Bruce’s dick again to rub at it while he took a brief - very brief, because he didn’t want to stay away for too long - breather. Bruce twitched against him, hips jumping with a noise he buried in Jim’s hair, and his willpower was instantly swiped away.

Jim groaned right along with him as his mouth returned, his tongue hot and insistent against Bruce’s dick now. If the way Bruce pawed at his bare shoulder was anything to judge by, he had to be close, and Jim was desperate to get him there. He sucked a little harder, hollowing his cheeks with the effort of it, and Bruce’s fingers tangled in his hair all over again as a warning.

“Jim,” Bruce gasped, sudden and urgent, “Jim, I’m  _ close.” _

A shudder wracked him, and Jim pressed his hand to himself hard enough that it almost hurt. He redoubled his efforts, moving quicker, flicking and curling his tongue, uncaring about the spit on his chin-

And Bruce came with a low groan of his name, clutching Jim to him with a hand in his hair and one on his shoulder. His thighs twitched on either side of him, threatening to clamp down, but that energy was channeled instead into the roll of Bruce’s hips, the way he fucked into Jim’s mouth to ride out the lingering waves and then the aftershocks of his orgasm. Jim made a quiet noise through his nose, squeezing a hand around himself as he stayed there, tracing the tip of his tongue along Bruce’s dick in slow, meandering strokes, right up until Bruce eased him off with a careful hand on his jaw.

His hands were decidedly less careful seconds later when they grasped his upper arms, heaving him up and over him as he collapsed onto his back. “Get rid of these,” Bruce grumbled, shoving Jim’s trousers and underwear down to his knees in one clumsy motion.

Jim laughed quietly into the hollow behind Bruce’s jaw. “You’re not even gonna bask in it first?”

He got a kiss on the cheek for that. He could feel Bruce’s infectious smile against his skin. “I’ll bask when you’re done, too.”

His hand curled around Jim then, warm and already wet, and oh,  _ God, _ he’d clearly swiped his fingers across his own dick first to get them that slick, and that thought had Jim rocking into his fist unsteadily, desperately. “Shit,” he gasped, burying his face in the crook of Bruce’s neck. “It’s not gonna take me long, not after that.”

“That’s hot,” Bruce replied in a heavy rush of breath, thumbing over the head. He moved his hand expertly, skipping right past teasing to jerking Jim off in such a way that his brain felt like it was melting. “We’ve got all the time in the world for more later.”

Jim huffed against his shoulder, pleasure rippling from his dick all the way up to his damn heart at the words. He hadn’t expected such a sentiment to be the thing that had him hanging on the edge, but then again, he  _ had _ been strung out this entire time, worked up from blowing Bruce - and, hell, the whole  _ week _ had been enough foreplay, all things considered. 

“Shit,” he breathed, stroking a trembling hand up Bruce’s side, just to touch. “Shit, Bruce,  _ shit-” _

He shivered over Bruce, spurting onto his fingers, and Bruce carefully slowed. His hand stayed around him for a moment longer, easing from base to tip in long, luxurious strokes, up until Jim was just about ready to collapse on top of him from exhaustion, come-covered hand and abdomen be damned. It took almost everything he had to aim and roll onto his side instead, right next to Bruce.

Except Bruce followed him, propping himself up on an arm as he leaned down to kiss Jim, warm and slow and almost sweet. Jim hummed, wordless,  _ boneless, _ as Bruce fondly brushed his nose against Jim’s.

“Think I want that shower now,” Jim murmured. Bruce laughed, and it was one of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard.

“Might be an idea,” he agreed, beaming down at him. “Mind if I join you?”

Jim smiled at him, fighting through his immediate desire to sleep just to spend a few minutes more with Bruce. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Together, they stumbled into the bathroom and eased their way under the water once it was hot enough. It was a tight fit, but Jim didn’t exactly mind an excuse to brush up against Bruce, to simply exist shoulder to shoulder. As Bruce turned away to reach for his shower gel, Jim spotted another telltale gunshot scar on Bruce’s other shoulder, and he almost considered asking about them. 

He didn’t, in the end. It was a wonder that Bruce had allowed him to even see them, and he didn’t want to ruin things by asking when Bruce didn’t say a word about the same scars that Jim carried.

This time, when they tumbled into bed, Jim sought him out. They had dressed just enough to put on sweats, but neither of them had wanted to bother with shirts. Bruce’s skin was warm and welcoming against his own, and Jim gladly sunk into his embrace. He stole a kiss before he sunk too far into the pillows and his rising tiredness, and he felt Bruce’s quiet laugh buzz against his lips before he dropped back onto the bed again.

“Goodnight, Jim,” Bruce said against his ear, much closer than he was used to.

Jim kissed his cheek. “Night, Bruce.”

He was gone before he could think about it, before he could consider the implications of this thing between them or the stories behind Bruce’s wounds. The warmth around him was absolute, and he let it drag him down into sleep without a single protest.


	9. Day 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for next week, I'm planning on not only posting the last chapter of Trouble In Paradise, but also posting the first of the sequel at the same time so you can go right into the next fic! It'll be smooth sailing, the whole thing is written already and just needs some last touches for editing. 
> 
> Also, remember, if you have any scenes you'd like from another perspective, drop them in the comments! Or you can always send me an ask @capedcommissioner on Tumblr.
> 
> Still do not interact if you ship incest.

There was something to be said for waking up in Bruce’s arms. It had only happened a handful of times, but Jim was already used to the warmth and security they represented. He felt Bruce kiss his forehead as his breathing changed, and Jim smiled into his shoulder, which had apparently become his pillow at some point during the night.

“Morning,” Bruce murmured, his lips still hovering over Jim’s skin.

“Mm, morning.” Jim stretched lazily, delighting in the wonderful looseness of his limbs. Clearly, a good night’s sleep and getting laid did wonders there. “What time is it?”

“Not too late,” Bruce promised. His fingers found their way to Jim’s hair as he straightened up again. Jim’s eyes slid back closed once more at the first pleasant scratch of Bruce’s nails, and he melted back into his side all over again. “I figured we should stay quiet anyway after last night. They’ll be watching.”

Jim hummed an agreement. Words weren’t exactly with him right now, not when he was so relaxed, but his mind was already picking itself up to begin sorting through Bruce’s reasoning. “Should still go watch,” he said, forcing his eyes open just to peer up at him.

Predictably, Bruce’s hair stuck out in every which way. His phone was in his free hand, but it rested in his lap as he smiled fondly down at Jim. Something lurched in Jim’s chest, gripping his heart and squeezing.

“We can,” Bruce said, and his smile turned mischievous now as he added, “but we don’t have to leave the bed right away, do we?”

Jim felt a pulse of interest low in his stomach. “No, we don’t. Shouldn’t, really. The less time we spend out there, the better.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.”

Bruce stayed upright long enough to put his phone down and pass Jim his glasses, and then he slunk back under the covers with him to determinedly kiss him into the mattress. By the time Jim had even had any thoughts about morning breath, Bruce had already moved on, trailing down his torso until he disappeared under the covers.

* * *

Eventually, they did make it out of their room, though Jim was quickly learning that Bruce was _insatiable._ He would have gladly been right there with him if it wasn’t for his refractory period, but in the end, they had to separate to eat and venture out into the rest of the resort.

It was midday before they found themselves back at the pool once more. This time, Jim allowed his gaze to linger when Bruce walked around comfortably shirtless, eager to appreciate the view - although, he did wonder how he’d missed all of those scars before. He put it down to being blinded by just the sight of Bruce alone.

Bruce was basking in the sun once more, all loose-limbed as he lounged back with his sunglasses on. He looked comfortable and relaxed, and it was enough that Jim almost wondered if he’d fallen asleep right then and there.

His phone buzzed, and he tucked it into the open cradle of his book to read. It was a text from Barbara.

_Hey, Dad. How’re things?_

For a long moment, Jim considered his answer, watching as the cursor blinked merrily back at him in the text box. Things were fantastic on the personal front, but as far as the case was concerned, it couldn’t be much worse. All he had so far was his own testimony, and that was shaky at best; saying that he _might_ have seen a drug deal wouldn’t hold in court.

 _They’re good,_ he replied eventually. _I’m still not tired of living in the lap of luxury, in case you were wondering._

_I didn’t think so. Have you got time in your busy schedule to call? I know you’ve got a lot of caviar and champagne waiting for you, though._

Jim snorted. He saw Bruce stir out of the corners of his eyes.

“I’m just gonna call Babs,” he said, putting his book on the table between them. “Be right back.”

He leaned in to kiss Bruce’s cheek before he went - and _that_ was a thrill, the fact that it was no longer a performance - and Bruce reached up to squeeze his hand. “Take your time,” he said, smiling lazily. “You haven’t called her all week, take as long as you need. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Jim wiggled his fingers between Bruce’s before he let go. “Thanks.” 

As the phone rang against his ear, he wandered along the side of the pool, passing other couples where they sat tangled together under umbrellas. He tucked his free hand into his pocket, turning on his heel briefly just to scan the area; it didn’t hurt to have a look while he was waiting to connect, after all.

There was a pause, and then Barbara’s familiar voice came through the speaker. _“Long time no call,”_ she teased, and something tightly knotted in Jim’s chest eased. He hadn’t even realised how much he’d missed the sound of his daughter’s voice until he heard it again. _“You didn’t answer me about the champagne and caviar, you know.”_

Jim rolled his eyes. He kept walking, strolling past one of the resort’s unofficial extensions. “I’ve been on vacation,” he reminded her. “And yeah, there’s been some champagne.”

_“Uh huh. A vacation where you should be working, you mean.”_

Barbara knew that he was undercover, of course. There had been an amused twinkle in her eye when he’d told her, something that made him suspect that she knew something he didn’t. He hadn’t said exactly what was going on - that was too much information, even for his own daughter - but he could certainly tell her why he wasn’t going to be home. That much had been a given from the very start.

“Well, you know how it is. It’s a great place, the staff are very… attentive.”

She seemed to pick up on his double meaning, which was a relief. _“I see. No cracks yet?”_

“No, we’ve just been checking out the different facilities. Think you’d like it here, Babs, they’ve got a nice spa.” 

_“Of course Bruce took you to get a massage.”_

“It was a mutual decision.”

Barbara laughed, and Jim felt a sudden pang of longing for home. It was enough to drive a wedge in the little bubble of peace he and Bruce had shared the past couple of days; he didn’t want to lose whatever they had, but he missed Gotham and his daughter. He wondered if it was possible to blend those two worlds, and if Bruce had meant what he said about inviting the two of them over for a movie night at some point.

One thing was for sure, he couldn’t go back to how things used to be, not now. 

There were footsteps behind him, but he paid them no mind. “So,” he said, casting a glance back across the pool, “what’ve you been-”

“Mr. Gordon?”

Jim froze.

 _“Dad?”_ Barbara asked. He could hear the frown in her voice.

“Just a second, sweetheart.” 

He turned, lowering his phone, but he deliberately didn’t press the speaker to his shoulder; Barbara was smart, and if she overheard whatever was about to happen, he was sure that she’d do something to make Bruce aware. He supposed that that friendship with Dick was a blessing after all.

Two staff members stood before him, grim expressions on their faces. They wore the same uniform, but they were muscled enough that it strained, and that alone told him all he needed to know: they had used his real name instead of ‘Mr. Wayne’, and they had taken the opportunity to catch him when he was alone. There wasn’t even any point fighting, not when he was sorely outnumbered before they even called for reinforcements.

His cover was broken.

“Mr. Gordon,” one of them said, a dark smile on his mouth, “I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us. There’s something that needs your attention.”

 _Their_ cover was intact, though, and it would stay that way even if Jim physically fought back; they would simply appear to be escorting out an unruly guests. Coolly, Jim raised an eyebrow and said, “I’m calling my daughter. My husband is just over there, if it’s about our room or a tab or something.”

The smile turned just a touch more wicked. “We need to speak to _you,_ Mr. Gordon, not Mr. Wayne.”

 _“Dad,”_ Barbara said again, more insistent.

“I’ll call you back,” he promised, and he hung up the call. He tucked his phone into his pocket, and he inclined his head. “Lead the way, gentlemen.”

One of them took him by the arm, steering him back into the building through a side door into the extension that hadn’t been on the blueprints. The outside world vanished in the simple snap of the door closing, and Jim swallowed his worry in one hard gulp. 

Odds were, this was mostly intimidation. As long as Barbara called Bruce and the GCPD, he’d be fine. He just had to endure.

* * *

Predictably, he found himself tied to a chair.

The Black Mask thugs had led him into that same corridor he and Bruce had suspected all along, and right into one of the locked doors. The chair was already there, and Jim didn’t protest as he sunk into it with a sigh; he even laid his hands along the arms for the thugs, and they eyed him warily as they secured him. They had already patted him down for any weapons so they were certain he was relatively harmless right now, but it was still a pleasure to see that his title of ‘commissioner’ carried some weight here.

Good, Jim thought. Let them be concerned. He’d rather conserve his energy and not earn himself any unnecessary pain if he could help it.

The room was smaller than he’d expected, and plain as hell. There were a few crates stacked in the corner, and Jim figured he could probably guess what was inside. All of that hunting, and he’d been brought right to the drugs.

That didn’t bode very well.

“The boss is coming from Gotham to visit tomorrow,” the talkative thug said, wandering back over to the door. He leaned against it, arms folded as he glared at Jim. All pretence of kindness and politeness was gone now, apparently. “Funny. You had good timing, Commissioner.”

“Lucky me,” Jim deadpanned. 

He got an ugly little laugh for that - and, frustratingly enough, a punch to the gut that he hadn’t even done anything to receive. “Lucky you,” he echoed as Jim wheezed. Jim resolved to keep his mouth shut then, just so he couldn’t give either of them an excuse to repeat it.

The other nudged his friend with his elbow, scowling. “We need to get Wayne, too. Should’ve grabbed him with Gordon, he’ll have run off by now.”

The first flicked his hand disdainfully. “He’ll turn up, and when he does, we’ll bleed him for all the cash he’s worth before he disappears, too.”

 _That_ made Jim’s heart stop. He tried not to let it show, but the thugs zeroed in on the way he gripped the arms of the chair, and he knew that that little piece of information had been catalogued away for later. 

“But what about the cops?” the second thug hissed, more insistently now. “He’ll call ‘em when he realises Gordon’s missing.”

Two pairs of eyes landed on Jim then, and he fought hard to stop himself from raising an eyebrow. The door closed firmly behind the two of them, and as soon as it was shut, Jim let out a long, steady breath and finally allowed himself to slump, to _think._

Barbara would contact someone - possibly Bruce, definitely the GCPD. Bruce himself was in danger too, and Jim wasn’t an idiot; he knew Bruce would try to track him down, had likely already figured out roughly where he was being held, and would be trying to plot a plan of attack. Jim desperately hoped that that plan was to lock himself in their room and wait for the cops to arrive. He didn’t want Bruce in the line of fire, especially now that the game was up. This place would be _crawling_ with Black Mask’s people, all hellbent on hunting him down.

The thought was enough to make Jim’s breath stutter again.

Briefly, he considered trying to escape. He tugged at the ropes around his wrists and while they held firm, there was a tiny bit of give there. The chair wasn’t even secured to the floor. The thing was, though, that door was securely locked - he and Bruce had tried it themselves, after all - and even if he did manage to free himself and wait, there would be too many guards for him to overcome. Even two would be too much for just him; once the advantage of surprise was gone, that left it down to raw strength, and either of those guards would beat him in a fistfight.

So, because it was the only thing he had control over, he began to count the time.

Ten minutes passed, and there was only silence. Anxiety began to throb in his chest as his thoughts turned back to Bruce; clearly he was escaping the thugs’ notice so far, but Jim didn’t know how long that luck would last. He tapped his foot in a worried little rhythm on the stone under his flipflops - which, God, Jim wished he was wearing something more suitable, because all he had was his shorts and his loose Hawaiian shirt. 

Twenty. His legs had started to go a little numb, so he readjusted. Bruce must have found a good spot if he’d evaded them for this long. It’d be a long day of playing cat and mouse until the GCPD arrived, he knew that much, and then he’d have to track Bruce down himself to make sure he was safe. 

Briefly, the thought occurred to him that the guards wouldn’t even bring Bruce here. Maybe they already had him, and they were working on getting that money out of him.

Thirty minutes was about the time he usually expected Batman. If he was back in Gotham, he knew he would have been sitting comfortably, knowing that he was on the cusp of being rescued. That was about as long as it normally took for him to show up.

Oddly enough, Jim was pretty sure he heard a couple of thuds in the distance, muffled by the walls. He frowned, sitting upright, preparing for… something. He wasn’t entirely sure what, but he was ready for a fight or to just taunt some more.

The door burst open, and while thugs did indeed tumble inside, it wasn’t in quite the way he’d imagined. They hit the floor with a chorus of grunts, and they struggled underneath the mass of the black shadow above them, squirming in an effort to throw it off. Jim’s heart skipped into overtime, thudding hard against his ribcage, as Batman raised his head to stare at him impassively through the white slits in his mask.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jim cursed, tugging at his restraints. They slipped, just a little, but the knots held firm. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Batman didn’t answer. He quickly, neatly, dispatched the guards, knocking them out so they would be of no further use to their reinforcements. Jim watched, both thrilled and terrified now, as Batman whirled to knock the extra handful of guards back down the corridor; the sounds of fighting continued even then, and he realised with a thrill that Batman had _backup_ somehow, too.

“Are you hurt?” Batman asked. He crossed the room, cutting through the slack in the ropes with the edge of a Batarang. The ropes fell away, and he offered Jim a hand to help him to his feet.

Jim ignored it, surging up under his own steam. “Bruce is out there,” he snapped. God, he wished he’d had the chance to carry a weapon with him; there had been no good excuse here in the resort, but it would have been so helpful now. “They’re hunting him down, we need to find him-”

“Commissioner.”

“Don’t ‘ _Commissioner’_ me, Batman,” he growled. “I’ve been sat here for thirty fucking minutes knowing I can’t do shit to help Bruce, we have to find him before they get to him-”

Batman folded his arms, his cape whispering across the ground. “Jim.” There was a slight smile on his lips, and Jim almost snarled again at the sight of his humour in such a dire situation; there was a civilian at risk, for fuck’s sake. Even if he disregarded his feelings, Bruce wasn't _supposed_ to be at risk. “Bruce is safe, I promise.”

The fight sagged out of Jim. “Thank fuck,” he hissed, pressing a trembling hand to his forehead. When had he started shaking? “Where is he? And, for the record, how the _fuck_ are you here? You were in _Gotham.”_

Batman’s smile turned sheepish, somehow. “I’ve been with you the entire time, Jim.”

The words didn’t sink in immediately. Jim heard them, he processed them, and then he circled right back around to process them _again,_ because he refused to believe that he’d been sharing a bed with Batman the entire time. There was no way in hell. 

And yet, now that he looked, he could see Bruce’s smile on Batman’s lips, Bruce’s tilt of the head, Bruce’s jawline. The answer had been right in front of him the entire time, and he had simply not looked.

“Well,” Jim said, “that explains the scars.”

Bruce laughed, head bowing forwards as his shoulders shook. “That’s all you have to say?”

“That, and the fact that I must be a shitty detective to not notice.”

“You didn’t _want_ to notice,” Bruce pointed out, and there was no mistaking it now that he was listening; he could hear Bruce’s voice under the rumble of the voice modulator, turning his natural warmth into a familiar growl. “You were my cover just as much as I was yours, Jim.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, huffing as a multitude of questions rained down on him. “You set this up.”

There was the slightest hint of a blush under the cowl. “I didn’t think things would turn out this way,” Bruce said, “and I hate to put the conversation off, but this really isn’t the time to discuss this.”

Another shadow appeared in the doorway, and Jim almost took a step back when Nightwing frowned at the pair of them. “No shit, it’s not the time,” he said. And then, smiling, he added, “Hey, Commissioner.”

Jim raised a hand tiredly. “Hey, kid.”

Nightwing turned to Bruce then, his serious face back on. “We need to get going. The others have a bunch restrained already, but there’ll be more on the way before the cops get here. Batgirl says the GCPD called for local reinforcements, so we should have help soon.”

 _Batgirl._ Jim’s stomach twisted, and he reached out to brace himself on the chair. He hoped it came across as casual, but the slight turn of Bruce’s head towards him said otherwise.

“You,” Nightwing continued, pointing at Bruce with an escrima stick, “need to make Batman disappear. You’re not supposed to be here like this.”

“Somehow, I didn’t like the idea of cowering in my room while Jim was captured,” Bruce shot back. “I wasn’t going to leave him and allow him to get hurt, Nightwing.”

“That’s not what I- Okay.” Nightwing sighed, and he turned on his heel to peer down the corridor. “Either way, you need to get rid of Batman. You’re gonna screw things up if people see you here, and you won’t have anyone but yourself to blame. Go change, pretend to hide now that Jim is safe, and let him be a cop until the locals turn up and we can take you guys home.”

Jim snorted. “I’m not going anywhere. This was my mission, I’m staying here until my force arrives to handle things.” He paused, glancing over at Bruce. “You _do_ kinda need to be Bruce for that, though. The GCPD will want to talk to you, since you were undercover with me and all.”

Somehow, Bruce managed to look playfully betrayed from behind the cowl, all with a particular twist of his lips. He sighed. “I’ll see you when you rescue me then,” he said, turning to disappear down the corridor with a rustle of his cape.

Nightwing grinned at him. “Wow. One week, and you’ve managed to get through to him. None of us could do that, and it’s been _years.”_

Jim rolled his eyes. “Careful, kid. Any other hints and I’ll know who you are, too.” 

“Eh, that’s fine. I figured you were sticking around anyway.” Nightwing grinned at him as he backed up, allowing Jim out of the room. “Got a weapon, Commissioner?”

“Nope.” 

Nightwing paused so he could toss him one of his sticks. “Try that. It’s not a gun, but it’ll work fine if you hit someone hard enough.”

Jim hefted the weight of it in his hand. Unfamiliar, but perfectly useable. “Alright. Lead the way, kid.”

* * *

The local police showed up in record time, though it was too late to be part of any of the action. Jim had helped the bats - because of course a whole group had shown up; Nightwing had led the charge with Batgirl and Robin close behind - and they had swept the premises to track down anyone who seemed suspicious. It was a difficult process due to the fact that not all of the staff were in on the scheme, and while Jim didn’t want to cuff first and ask questions later, it seemed to become the theme of the evening.

The guests, on the other hand, had all fled back to their rooms at the first sign of trouble, and Jim was just planning the process of checking in on everyone with his police badge in hand when the local force finally arrived. Other officers vanished to take that duty for him, while he and the lead investigator settled in for a long talk.

It was some time before he could peel himself away, and by then there was a headache building in his temples. He took the opportunity to approach the spot where Batgirl stood, watching the fray, so he could place his hand on her shoulder. 

She jumped. “Commissioner?”

“Relax,” Jim chuckled. “It’s okay. I know.”

Barbara exhaled a slow breath. “Was it today?”

“No, I figured it out ages ago.” 

She nodded. She was still stiff under his hand, so Jim squeezed and gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m not mad. I know Batman - _really_ know him now,” he said pointedly, “and it’s okay, really. Thank you for getting the word out.”

Barbara reached up to pat his arm. A small smile had worked its way onto her face, hesitant and sweet. It was somehow heartbreaking, and if she hadn’t been dressed up as Batgirl, Jim would have dragged her in for a hug. “Of course, Dad,” she said quietly. 

Bruce materialised not long after, exchanging a quick nod with Robin where he stood next to Nightwing. There was a little smile on Robin’s face, and it didn’t take much to do the maths there; Jim solved that little mystery surrounding their identities without even meaning to.

He came over to stand next to Jim, perfectly polite now. How strange, Jim thought, that their cover story had become a cover for something else, something more genuine, and now that it was gone it seemed impossible to cross the great canyon between them. He hadn’t even realised that downstairs in that room would be his last opportunity to touch Bruce until now.

The sad little twist to Bruce’s mouth made him wonder if he was thinking the same thing.

“Job well done, I think, Commissioner,” Bruce said, inclining his head.

Jim already missed the way Bruce said his name. “Could’ve been better, could’ve been worse,” he agreed. “I don’t know about well done. Think that would’ve been it for me if it hadn’t been for our friends here.” He glanced at Bruce out of the corners of his eyes, arching an eyebrow. “How did they find us?”

“Batgirl got everyone on the move, from what I hear,” Bruce said, lowering his voice as a couple of officers passed. “She contacted me, and then reached out to Nightwing and the GCPD.”

Jim nodded. “They’ll be here eventually. It’s a long drive from Gotham.” He paused as he folded his hands behind his back. “You know you don’t have to stay. We’ll want to debrief you when we get back to Gotham, but you’re free to go now, Bruce.”

“And miss all the excitement? Not likely.”

Jim almost laughed - almost. It was a near thing, and he only stopped himself by biting the inside of his cheek. “We’ve got officers swarming the building now. Most of the other guests are scrambling out of here to get lawyers before anyone can interview them, and we’ve already got people in cuffs everywhere. From here on out, it’s just paperwork, securing the place, and waiting around until my team gets here.”

Across the room, Nightwing grinned at them. “Yeah, Mr. Wayne,” he called, teasing, “we can get you a ride home.”

Bruce’s smile was polite, but strained. Jim was pretty sure he could detect some humour underneath that, though. “No, thank you, Nightwing. With all due respect, Jim, I’m not useless; I’ll wait around until I can give my testimony if it’s needed, and in the meantime, I’ll get everyone drinks. I doubt anyone will mind me raiding the stores for it at this point.”

Barbara perked up. “Any chance of a coffee?”

Robin straightened up, mouth open, only for Nightwing to ruffle his hair. “No coffee for you,” he muttered as Robin batted his hand away.

“Coffee is like catnip for cops,” Jim reminded him. “You’ll have everyone giving you their orders if you’re not careful.”

Bruce sighed, and Jim tracked his mournful stare to the elevator they had taken so many times before. No doubt he was thinking about the Batsuit - which, Jim now realised, must have been tucked away in that locked suitcase all along. Sneaky bastard.

* * *

The GCPD arrived later in the night, long after the sun had set. Jim was grateful for his late morning and the cups of coffee Bruce kept plying with him, but he ached for a good, long sleep. There wasn’t much chance of it anytime soon, though, he knew that much.

Renee grinned at him when she arrived, pulling him into a handshake that become a quick hug, complete with a slap on the back. “Good work,” she said.

“Wasn’t me,” he reminded her, draining the last dregs of his most recent mug. “All I did was get kidnapped for about thirty minutes.”

Given his involvement in the case, he let Renee take the lead. She took Bruce to one side to talk to him, just to get his version of the day’s events before it got too late. Once she was done with him, she did the same to Jim, and then quickly dismissed him.

Jim just stared at her, an eyebrow raised. “Go home,” he repeated blankly. “Sure, because I’m in a condition to make that drive after being awake this long.”

Renee gave him a flat stare. “Jim, half of Batman’s crew is here. I’m sure they can give you and Mr. Wayne a ride back to Gotham.”

He frowned. It had, admittedly, only just occurred to him how bizarrely quickly Nightwing, Batgirl, and Robin had all arrived. He’d been a little too busy to think about it since they’d busted him out. “What are you talking about?”

“Did you not see what they arrived in?”

“No?”

There was a clatter, and he glanced to his right to find Bruce struggling with all three of their combined suitcases, and not one of the kids moved to help him. Robin strolled past him without a second glance, and it was a long moment before Nightwing finally cracked to take the one that Jim recognised as his own. 

“Jim,” Bruce said, waving to him, “they offered to take us back to Gotham now the GCPD is here - both of us. Are you coming?”

He turned to Renee. _“Am_ I going?”

She patted his arm. “Go. You’re tired. I’ll take over here, and when we get back to Gotham tomorrow, we’ll arrange debriefings for you and Mr. Wayne.” And then, grinning, she added, “Plus, you definitely need to see what they’re taking you home in. If I can’t ride in it, then you have to for me.”

Warily, Jim fell into step beside Bruce. He took the handle of one of his suitcases as he followed him out, squinting through the dark-

Until he spotted what was, unmistakably, the Batwing in the parking lot.

Bruce winked at him before mounting the slope leading up into the plane. Jim trailed after him, and even when he settled into a seat next to Bruce, he remained stunned at the interior; it was unlike any other passenger plane he’d ever been on, naturally, and decorated in dark colours with bright strips of neon LEDs. The other three were gone - probably in the cockpit, Jim thought, and he was unsure how he felt about that.

It didn’t matter. Takeoff was smooth, and by the time they were halfway back to Gotham, he was dozing on Bruce’s shoulder.


	10. Day 15+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are! The end of part one! Today's the bonus day where I post the first chapter of the second fic along with this update, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @capedcommissioner!
> 
> Do not interact if you ship incest.

It was a long, long week without Bruce.

Jim didn’t notice it at first. He was wrapped up in paperwork over the whole undercover mission, and he spent hours at his desk in the GCPD, writing and signing and reading his life away. He did briefly see Bruce when he came in to have his debriefing interview - Renee ran that again, as the impartial third party and the most senior aside from Jim himself - but that was only in passing. They shared a look across the reception area of the GCPD, and Jim warred with his desire to offer Bruce a coffee from their shitty machine in the break room. In the end, Bruce had left with a sad little smile.

He missed Bruce. He missed Bruce like he was missing a limb, or perhaps a piece of his heart instead. There wasn’t even the time to linger on the matter like he wanted to; the paperwork was so heavy, so much to wade through, and that wasn’t even counting all of the arrests and, now, the fight for glory between the GCPD and the more local station. 

“It was our fucking mission,” Jim growled into his paper cup of coffee.

Renee hummed, her voice rough with the desire to sleep. “I know, I know, but they technically got the arrests.” Her mouth twisted with distaste. “Doesn’t matter that it was our vigilantes that did the arresting, or that you helped them.”

The thought of Gotham’s resident band of vigilantes made something flip in his chest. He was sorely tempted to go up to the roof, flip on the Batsignal and… what? What would he say? He genuinely didn’t even know, not yet.

In the week that had passed, neither of them had reached out. In Jim’s defence, he didn’t have Bruce’s number, and he didn’t exactly want to use his police powers for his own desires. Bruce, however, didn’t have such an excuse; he had all the free time in the world now that he was no longer involved with the investigation, and he hadn’t come to find him. Maybe that was respect for how busy he was, or maybe Bruce was done with him.

Jim really, really hoped it was the former. 

The evening of that seventh day found Jim finally at home at a reasonable time, hunched over his miserable microwave dinner. He’d missed cooking, but he simply didn’t have the energy to put into it right now, not when he was so utterly drained from work; Barbara wasn’t even home to motivate him right now, and had in fact left a note to let him know she was going out to patrol with the other bats that night.

It was only when he leaned forwards to put down his plate that he noticed something shimmering on his finger.

The ring.

He still had the fucking ring, and not only did he still have it, he was still  _ wearing _ it.

Jim blinked at it, turning it to watch the way it caught the dull light of the overhead lamp. A multitude of feelings flooded his chest, confusion mixed with want mixed with longing, and it was one hell of a cocktail. He rubbed his thumb against the side of the ring, just to feel that familiar metal against something other than his neighbouring knuckle. 

He hadn’t even realised that it was still there. The past week had been a blur of sleep, shower, work, eat, and repeat, breaking him down to the point that he didn’t even fully undress before he collapsed into bed anymore. Jim honestly didn’t know if he’d ever taken the ring off, or if he’d simply put it on again in the mornings while he was on autopilot. 

He still had questions, too. They’d circled his brain, settled into more cohesive thoughts now, but they still lingered.

Jim flexed his fingers, just to feel the ring against his skin. He kept it on.

* * *

The warmth of the resort had been nice, but Jim had always preferred the chill of Gotham. Even now, as rain drizzled miserably down over the city and against Jim’s upturned collar, it brought a smile to his face. Gotham sure was a grim, downtrodden city at the best of times, but it was  _ his _ city.

The light of the Batsignal cut through the grey clouds overhead to form a blurry version of what it usually was. It was good enough, though, and just as Jim had started to stomp his boots to get rid of the chill in his toes, he heard a flutter of a cape. He turned - because of course Bruce always appeared behind him - and just the sight of that familiar silhouette made him smile. His heart skipped a beat in his chest, and then thudded twice as hard to make up for it.

“Hi,” Bruce said - and it  _ was _ Bruce saying it, just as himself. His voice modulator was switched off for now. 

Jim’s cheeks already hurt from smiling. “Hey.”

Bruce beamed right back at him, and it felt like no time had passed. He watched as Bruce glanced back at the door, wary, and Jim waved a hand. “I locked it. Nobody’s gonna come up and disturb us, I promise. How are you?”

“Good. Busy catching up.” 

“Who was it who filled in for you again?”

“Dick. I have been told in no uncertain terms that I’m not to ask him to cover for me again.”

“Who said that?”

“Oh, just about everyone. Him, mostly.”

Jim laughed quietly. It felt good to laugh with Bruce again; something came loose in his chest, a hard something that had started to seal around his heart. It crumbled now, almost like it had never really been there in the first place. Before he could chicken out, he went and perched on the low wall by the Batsignal, and he patted the empty space next to him. Bruce took the seat without question.

“So,” Jim said, stretching his legs out in front of himself, “it’s been a little while.”

“It has.” Bruce leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. “How are you, Jim?”

“Busy,” he echoed. His fingers sought out the packet of cigarettes in his pocket, and he lit one with pure muscle memory. It had been easy to ignore the nicotine craving while they were at Paradise, but with work looming over him now it had become much harder again. He exhaled a thin stream of smoke, politely turning it away from Bruce. “Still not done with our case.”

Bruce made a quiet noise through his nose. “I’m sorry I can’t be more help.”

“It’s fine, you did your part. Saved my ass and everything.” Jim sucked on his cigarette again, just to have something to do. “I never properly thanked you for that.”

“You don’t need to.”

Jim disagreed, but he didn’t linger on it. He just nodded, let it pass, and then considered the Gotham city skyline opposite them for a long moment. Bruce let it hold, apparently enjoying the peace of being side by side again as much as Jim was.

He couldn’t let it rest, though. Not yet.

“Can I ask you some questions?” he asked, ashing his cigarette. “Personal ones. Entirely off the record.”

Bruce stiffened next to him. It was subtle, barely there, mostly noticeable in the way Bruce straightened out of his slouch just a touch. “Of course.”

“Why did you suggest yourself for the mission? Was it just so you had your own cover, or was it more personal than that?”

Bruce puffed out a breath. “Straight in with the hard hitting ones, Jim?”

He cracked a smile. “I’ve been a cop for a long time, Bruce. Of course I’m going straight for the difficult ones.”

Bruce was quiet for a moment, and Jim let him have his peace to assemble his thoughts. “I suggested myself for the cover,” he said eventually, idly rubbing his fingers against the back of his gauntlet, as if he was trying to get rid of a piece of invisible dirt, “for work purposes. It was the only way I could get in. There was no point going in as just me; I needed my own story, just like you did. I…” Bruce trailed off then, his lips twisting with something unreadable. “I won’t pretend that I didn’t already have feelings for you, because I did. I  _ do.” _

He hesitated, still staring down at his boots. “Jim… If you’re angry that I suggested myself and then things happened between us, I understand. That wasn’t my intention. I didn’t want to take advantage of the proximity - I wanted to explain some things to you first, but that didn’t quite go according to plan.”

Jim swallowed hard. “Well, that actually brings me around to my next one. Was what happened at the Paradise…” He stopped just to take another breath of his cigarette. “Was it just the circumstances, or is that something that maybe has a chance back here?”

There was silence for a beat, and Jim felt like his heart was about to leap right out of his chest. He was about to take the silence as his answer when a gauntlet came to rest on his free hand, the fingers slotting between his. 

“I’ve wanted to reach out to you this entire time,” Bruce murmured. “I… I didn’t know how, and you’ve been busy. We didn’t talk about this while we were there, and I didn’t want to interrupt you while you were at work just to discuss it.”

“I wanted to talk, too,” Jim admitted. “Pretty badly, actually.”

Bruce exhaled a quiet laugh. “Well, I think that that settles that one. That’s a relief.”

“It is,” Jim agreed. He stubbed out his cigarette, never mind the fact that he had a good few puffs left on it. “And, uh, by the way, one last thing.”

Silently, Jim reached into his pocket to retrieve the ring. He had finally, reluctantly, removed it from his finger just before he turned on the Batsignal. He offered it to Bruce now, and he desperately wished he could read more from his face; the cowl made everything neutral. “I didn’t realise I still had this,” he said, trying not to trip over his words, “and I don’t know where you got it from or if you want it back, but-”

“Keep it.”

Jim blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Keep it,” Bruce repeated, rubbing his thumb against the side of Jim’s hand. Then, smiling out at the city again, he said, “You can try to give it to me again another day, maybe a few years down the line.”

His cheeks flamed as he pocketed it again. “Right. So I’ll take that as a yes on us being more…”

“Official?” Bruce cocked his head. “Exclusive?”

“Both.”

Bruce smiled. “Both it is. Does that mean I can persuade you and Barbara to come over for a movie night now?”

Jim barked out a laugh. “You never had to persuade me, I already said yes.”

They stayed there for a moment longer, and Jim was more than happy to bask in the confirmation of  _ them _ . He was just happy to have Bruce’s gloved hand in his, and to know that it was real this time. 

Before Bruce left, he made sure to actually give Jim his number. It came with a kiss, of course, right there in front of the Batsignal. The warmth of it left Jim tingling all the way down to his toes. 

He stood there grinning like a fool as Bruce swung off into the city, apparently eager to be back to his old haunts. He couldn’t say he blamed him, not when he had been so relieved just to touch the switches and dials of the Batsignal again. It wasn’t long before Bruce’s shadow was swallowed up by the darkness of Gotham, and Jim thumbed the ring in his pocket as he stared off into the distance for just a moment more. His desk was calling him, but it could wait a few more minutes.

Before Jim left, he slipped the ring back on.

* * *

“Dad, I don’t think you need to bring snacks.”

Jim looked over at the passenger seat where Barbara was frowning at the bag in her lap. He’d deposited it there as soon as she’d climbed into the car, before she’d even had a chance to stuff their overnight bags into the space between her feet. 

He turned the car back onto the road, taking the familiar route to Wayne Manor. “No, I probably don’t, but I figured it’d be polite.”

Barbara peered into the plastic bag, wrinkling her nose at the contents. Jim knew that it was just chips and sweets in there, nothing that was remotely healthy. “No, I  _ know _ you don’t, and you’d better hope Alfred isn’t insulted.”

“I think he’ll just be happy I’m plying teenaged boys with more snacks to keep them from eating him out of house and home.”

Barbara laughed, and the sound was music to his ears. God, he’d missed spending time with her, even if it had only been a week away. It might as well have been two with how busy he was now. 

Tonight wasn’t even going to be just the two of them, but Jim didn’t actually mind all that much. He usually preferred her quiet company with dinner and a shitty movie, and this was just going to have a few more additions to the group in front of a different TV.

Bruce was waiting at the door when he arrived. Dick was at his elbow, and an unfamiliar guy with a shock of red hair was right behind him, an arm casually and comfortably around Dick’s waist. He and Dick waved Barbara in, and they vanished into the halls of Wayne Manor without so much as a ‘see you later’. Jim stopped next to Bruce, both overnight bags over his shoulder as he shook his head.

“That was Wally,” Bruce said, gesturing after the trio. 

“I figured,” Jim chuckled. He rocked up on his toes to kiss Bruce’s cheek. “Hi, by the way.”

Bruce’s arms snaked around him to pull him into a better kiss, one somewhere between a peck and the one they’d shared on the roof. Jim almost wanted to drag him off to Bruce’s bedroom, wherever that was in this maze of a manor, but he kept his hands to himself for now. 

Dinner was a busy affair with so many of them crowded around the table. Alfred had put together a spectacular spread to fit everyone’s tastes, and Jim found himself almost overwhelmed at the first bite of his food; it was even better than the fancy food he’d had at Paradise, so no wonder Bruce hadn’t seemed impressed. He  _ had _ grown up on Alfred’s cooking, after all.

And, with the food and the chatter, he began to see the appeal of a busy house.

He was sandwiched between Bruce and Dick, and while his knee bumped fondly against Bruce’s under the table, he listened to the delighted laughter as it bounced around the table. Barbara fit in seamlessly, of course, thanks to working with them for so long anyway, and the boys seemed more than willing to accept Jim into the fold. Even Damian engaged him in conversation, though he wasn’t entirely sure if he’d won his trust and acceptance entirely just yet. 

Jim was the first to rise once they had finished dessert. He took it upon himself to stack the dishes, ignoring Alfred’s polite protests. “You cooked,” Jim said, shrugging a shoulder as he carefully balanced their cutlery on top. “And I’m a guest. Let me rinse them off, at least.” 

Alfred relaxed back in his seat, a gentle smile on his face. “I certainly won’t stop you if you insist, Jim.”

To his surprise, Wally joined him, trotting out to the kitchen with the last of the glasses. “Thanks,” Jim said, shooting him a smile. 

“No problem.” He grinned back, wide and warm, as he set his cargo down next to the sink. 

As Jim rolled up his sleeves to get started, Wally followed suit, settling in next to Jim to open up the dishwasher. Jim passed him the rinsed plates so he could load it, and they fell into an easy rhythm as the festivities continued out in the dining room.

“You don’t have to help,” Jim said. He nodded back towards the dining room. “You can head on back through if you want, Wally.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Wally settled back against the counter, hand out for the next plate. “I’ve been here for a week already. I love these guys and I love being around family, but it’s nice to catch the quieter moments when I can.”

Jim studied him out of the corners of his eyes. He wouldn’t claim to recognise every hero out there - Gotham was his stomping ground, after all, so while he knew the Justice League and others existed, he didn’t pay much attention outside of his own city. 

Odds were, though, that Wally was someone. He had to be for Dick to have known him this long. 

“You busy a lot then?” Jim asked, eyebrows raised. 

“Oh, I do a lot of running around,” Wally laughed. There was meaning in that laugh, and when Jim looked at him curiously, Wally added, “I’m the Flash. Or, well,  _ a _ Flash. Not the Justice League Flash, that’s my uncle’s gig.”

_ “Ah.” _ Jim nodded, and he tried not to be too baffled. From what he’d seen, superheroes were generally pretty protective over their titles, so it was odd that the Flashes were apparently quite content to share it. Maybe it was down to that whole family thing. The Bats did it, to some degree. That must have been it.

He was only just beginning to realise how much he had to learn, particularly if he was going to be sticking around with Bruce. It was just a little bit dizzying.

The evening found their two little families crammed onto couches in the ridiculously spacious living room. Jim found himself between Bruce and Barbara - a space that he was more than happy to occupy - while Damian scowled at Dick and Wally as they curled themselves together on their own couch. Alfred formed a polite barrier between Jason and Tim, which seemed to be by design. If there was one thing Jim had discovered about this family instantly, it was that while they loved each other, they certainly were not strangers to a playful scrap.

There was nothing of the sort, though, much to Jim’s relief. It was the first proper night off he’d had in a week, and sinking into Bruce’s side was pure bliss. He didn’t bother taking in the generic action movie on screen, but he enjoyed the chatter from the families in equal measure.

It felt like  _ home. _

Later, he sunk into bed with Bruce. There had never been a question about where he would sleep. Bruce had offered a guest room, and he’d declined instantly; he’d shared a bed with the man for a week and already slept with him in both meanings of the word, so he wasn’t particularly bothered about staying apart. 

Besides, he’d missed sharing a space with Bruce. There was something to be said about the comfort of wrapping his arms around him under the covers again; it was so bizarrely familiar, and it soothed an itch deep under his skin that he hadn’t even noticed until now. Jim exhaled a long breath as he pressed his fingers into the muscle of Bruce’s back, simply mapping out the expanse of skin like it was the first time all over again. 

“Missed this,” he admitted, murmuring the words into the darkness.

Bruce kissed him, gentle and sweet. “Me, too.”

* * *

He woke up to gentle kisses and a warm hand on his waist in the morning, and Jim barely managed to slide his glasses onto his nose before things progressed. It was a perfect welcome back to what was quickly becoming normal; Bruce pressed him into the mattress with slow rolls of his hips and easy presses of his mouth on his lips, his jaw, his throat, and when they each came, it felt more like a sigh. Tension flowed out of Jim’s muscles, leaving him limp in the bed long after Bruce had risen with a fond laugh.

“I’ll get breakfast,” he said, grinning at Jim as he tugged his sweats up onto his hips. He began his hunt for a shirt, and Jim propped himself up in bed to admire the broad expanse of skin on show.

“Mm,” he hummed, leaning back against the pillows. “You sure nobody will miss us?”

“I’ll tell them you’re sleeping in. Be back in a moment.”

Jim lounged back in bed as the door closed behind him, scooping up his phone to idly scroll through the messages he’d received overnight. It wasn’t anything interesting - a few updates from the station, nothing that they couldn’t handle without him or Batman - and some idle chatter from a few friends. It was perfectly mindless for this early in the day, while his brain was still fluffy with sleep and the lingering effects of his orgasm.

When Bruce returned, he came with a tray of food and a newspaper under his arm. It was so domestic that it made Jim’s heart ache. He abruptly realised that he could get used to this: lazy mornings in Wayne Manor, lingering in bed while they nibbled at whatever Bruce whipped up. It was pure luxury, but so wholly different to the sort they’d had at Paradise. 

It was  _ better.  _ It wasn’t even a contest.

“Here,” Bruce said, placing the tray over his lap and kissing his forehead. And then, laughing, he asked, “Have you even moved?”

“Nope.” Jim smiled smugly as he dug into his waffles. “Couldn’t have paid me enough to get out of bed. Your mattress is  _ amazing.” _   
“I should hope it is for how much it’s worth.”

Jim laughed, and Bruce tucked himself under the covers with him again, puffing up his pillows behind his back. He settled in with a sigh and reached out to pick at his own plate as he opened up the newspaper across his knees. Jim was more than content to exist in silence, to just breathe the same air as Bruce, so he relaxed back into the plush bed as he enjoyed his breakfast at his own pace. His phone was still unlocked on his knee, so he used his pinky to keep scrolling while he kept his cutlery carefully away from it. The last thing he wanted to do was be forced out of bed because he’d dropped a dollop of syrup on it.

He only stirred out of his comfortable haze when Bruce cleared his throat. “Jim.”

“Mm?” He peered down at the tray, half expecting to find he’d spilled his coffee without noticing. “What?”

Bruce was looking down at his hand, a flush high on his cheeks. The ring was still there, glittering innocently back at them just like Jim’s had the other night. Somehow, it still seemed teasing, even though they really were together now. True, they weren’t married, but it still made something thud in his chest to see it on Bruce’s finger.

“It appears,” he said slowly, “that I forgot to take it off.”

“That’s fine,” Jim said, shrugging a shoulder. “I forgot to take mine off until the night before I spoke to you, it doesn’t matter.”

“It does, Jim.”

He frowned over at him, confused more than anything else. “No, it doesn’t. It doesn’t bother me, Bruce. Look, I get it, I was so used to it as well that it didn’t even occur to me-”

_ “Jim.” _

Something in his voice made him stop. Bruce shoved the newspaper towards him, and he finally looked down at the page.

There, blown up for the world to see, was a picture of Bruce walking up the steps to Wayne Tower. His left hand was in view, and the image had been blown up in a spare corner of the photo to focus in on his fingers. Right there, in plain view, was Bruce’s fake wedding ring, coupled with the headline  _ ‘Bruce Wayne, Secret Wedding Scandal - Who, When, And Where?’. _

His breakfast very suddenly felt like a solid rock in his stomach. Bruce was staring at him, his face utterly blank with shock - well, blank aside from the trickles of guilt and embarrassment there - and Jim could only think of two words to accurately sum up his emotions:

“Oh shit.”

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: do not interact if you ship incest.


End file.
